


Hearts Like Ours

by svana_vrika



Category: Free!
Genre: AU with canon elements, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Boss/Employee Relationship, Childhood friends to strangers to lovers, Complete, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, Longing, Love of a lifetime, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Outdoor Sex, Playful Sex, Reunions, Soulmate elements, Veterinary Medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/svana_vrika
Summary: When it's the love of a lifetime, the heart will always know.
Relationships: Matsuoka Rin/Yamazaki Sousuke, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42
Collections: Tachibana Makoto Birthday Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Farah_Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farah_Rose/gifts).



> Written for [farah_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy) for the Tachabana Makoto Birthday Exchange 2020! Farah_rose, I hope you enjoy! ♥

"Haru-chan!" Haru lifts his head with the call, crayon stilling, _breath_ stilling. "Haru-chan!!" It comes again, and closer this time, so it hadn't been a wishful thought in his head, and Haru _smiles,_ his entire body thrumming with happiness even as he takes time to carefully put the crayon away. Because it's _Makoto_ , and it's been a _whole year_ since they'd seen each other and, to the seven-year-old boy, the best part of the year's just begun.

Haru can’t remember when Makoto had started coming to the ranch because, according to his mother, Makoto has been coming since just before he turned five months old. And, since Haru had been only almost one himself back then, well. But it doesn’t matter to Haru that he can’t. All that does is that, for every cherry blossom season for _nearly_ since they’d both been born, Makoto has been there.

He doesn’t come alone, of course. Makoto’s mom comes with him, too. That’s how it all had started, his own mom had told him a couple of years back. He’d felt so sad as he’d watched Makoto leave that he’d asked her if something like that could make a person’s heart break like Tamura-san’s toes had when the black mare had stepped on them. She’d drawn him into her lap and had cuddled him close as she’d told him how she and Makoto’s mom had always been the dearest of friends since elementary school— _embarrassing_ , Haru thinks, now that he’s all grown and seven, but he still remembers that hug—and how they’d done everything together. And then everything had changed their senior year in high school.

“Mariko-chan and I had plans to attend the local community college together,” she’d said softly, and then she’d gently laughed, reminiscing. “We’d even made a pact when we were younger that we wouldn’t marry unless our husbands were friends, too.” But then your uncle Itsuki…”

His mom had trailed off, and Haru can still see that sad smile in his mind, too. He’d heard _that_ story before, even at that young age; how his uncle had been in Kobe on business for the ranch when a horrible earthquake had hit. “Well, needless to say, even though I’d never imagined that I’d be the one taking over the ranch one day, plans changed. And at the time, Haruka-chan, yes, my heart felt as broken as Tamura-san’s toes, because I needed to do things and go places that Mariko-chan couldn’t, to learn the things I would need. But we’d find time together every year when we could and, once I was done school and back home for good, Mariko-chan started to come to Iwatobi every April for cherry blossom season to help.”

Iwatobi was the family ranch, and Haru knew that story, too; how his grandmother’s grandmother had named it for the little seaside town where she’d been born because the blue of the river that cuts through their acreage had reminded her of the ocean back home.

“Haru-chan!” Haru blinks and jumps, startled from his little trip through his memories. Makoto giggles and comes quickly into his room, reaches out his hands to take Haru’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!” he apologizes as he tugs Haru up and into a hug. “Tadaima, Haru-chan!”

Haru’s face warms with the hug, but he returns it with a soft, “Okaeri,” as he smiles where Makoto can’t see it. It’s silly. Iwatobi isn’t Makoto’s home; he lives far away in Teshio. But it’s sweet, too, how Makoto always says it when he returns to Haru, and Haru knows it makes Makoto happy to hear _okaeri_ back. It makes his own heart happy, too. 

“Didn’t you hear me call?” Makoto asks as he drops his hug to take Haru’s hands again, and Haru quickly nods his head because he doesn’t want Makoto to think he’d ever _not_ hear him.

“I was just thinking is all. About a story mom told me,” he says when Makoto tips his head in question. He slips a hand free and they move to sit on the edge of Haru’s bed. Makoto’s still looking at him inquisitively, so he tells him from the start, skipping the _very_ beginning about how it was his own sadness that had led his mom to share it, of course, because _that’s_ just embarrassing. “And even after your mom got married and had you, she still kept coming to Iwatobi,” he says after he’s caught Makoto up to where his thoughts had been.

“That’s amazing!” Makoto breathes, truly awed, but then he grins and his eyes sparkle with it. “But you wanna know the best part about it, Haru-chan? We’ll have been best friends even longer than them when we get as old as they are!” he says when Haru tips his head in curiosity. “Even _if_ things will be different after this year, ‘cause of school,” Makoto finishes with a pout, and Haru can’t help but nod and give a little sigh himself as he idly toes the igusa. He and Makoto both had been taught at home until they’d turned seven and they’d _had_ to go to school, which means that Makoto can’t just be away from home for a month. They shouldn’t even get _this_ year, but Makoto’s mom and dad had decided it would be okay this one last time.

Makoto is never this quiet for this long unless he’s sleeping, so Haru glances up at him, sees the shadow of his lashes against his cheek and a hint of a quiver to his lower lip. His heart hurts, not _quite_ the same as it always does when it’s time for Makoto to leave, but nearly as badly, because the sadness just looks wrong on Makoto’s sweet, sunny face. So he swallows down his own sorrow and says stoutly, “We still have this time, though. And we’ll take what time we can get every year like our moms ‘til we’re grown and in charge of time again.” He squeezes Makoto’s hand and then slides off of the bed and gives him a tug. “Come on, Makoto. Let’s go see the new foals and calves, and there are kittens we need to name.”

And like that, Makoto is smiling again, Haru’s heart lightens and everything is as it should be.

They don’t talk about it again, the uncertainty of their future. They spend their days coloring and playing, hearing stories from Haru’s grandmother, petting the baby animals, roaming the acreage and getting into trouble because neither one of them can stay out of the river despite how cold it still is—all to the entertainment of the paying guests that make up a large part of Iwatobi’s livelihood. But time goes by as it does; far too soon, they’re down to a single day left, and both of them are feeling the pending separation more strongly than they ever have before.

When it’s time to go to bed, Makoto, who—to Haru’s knowledge—has never said a cross word or thrown a tantrum in his life, actually defies his mother’s request, fists clenched, cheeks blotchy and red, tears in his eyes. She looks about at as much of a loss as Haru feels, which solidifies both the thought that Makoto _hasn’t_ done this before, and amplifies the ache in his own heart. It isn’t until Haru comes up and takes a fist, stroking it until it unclenches, that Makoto quits and sullenly cedes. But when they’re in Haru’s room, the tears finally come as Makoto flings himself at him. Haru lets him hug him and cry ‘til he’s done, because it gives him something to focus on other than his own hurting heart and stinging eyes, and then, even though it’s supposed to be lights out, he slips out of bed and pads over to the switch, then gets into his closet.

“Haru-chan?” Makoto asks as he sniffles softly and wipes at his eyes.

“Shh!” He stands on tiptoe to get the box he’d put up just before Makoto had come, knowing that he wouldn’t be needing it, and then he pads back over to the bed and rejoins Makoto, who’s sat up on the edge. “Grandmother’s been teaching me to make something,” he says as he sets it across their two legs, and he opens it, shows Makoto the myriad bundles of brightly colored cord. “Bracelets,” he murmurs. “She’s still showing me all of the knots.” He points to a partially finished bracelet. “That’s for mom for Mother’s Day.”

“So pretty,” Makoto breathes, “Haru-chan’s so talented!” And Haru smiles a bit even as he ducks his head and blushes; he can’t help it. Makoto’s praise has always made him feel that way, light and warm and special instead of just some ordinary, somewhat boring, kid. “What’s this one for?” Makoto asks, and Haru looks up and into the box, the smile returning, because Makoto’s homed in on the reason that he’d taken it out in the first place. “It’s the last one I learned; a forever knot,” he tells Makoto. “It’s Grandmother’s favorite, because Grandfather gave her one their first Tanbata together to tell her he’d love her forever.” Makoto’s eyes light up and he smiles, for the first time in hours, it seems.

“Grandmother told us that story, about the stars!”

“Ah. Let’s make one for each other, Makoto,” Haru instructs, and Makoto’s smile widens as he starts to poke through the pretty cords.

“Mm! ‘cause we’re just like them!”

Haru’s cheeks and heart warm, because the stars’ story is all about love and fate and finding their way back to each other, and he doesn’t _quite_ get it all, even though he _is_ seven, but he knows it’s something special that he doesn’t think he’d mind sharing with Makoto at all. “Ah,” he says, head still ducked to the box. “Except we meet in the spring and not the fall.”

Makoto giggles. “I meant like Grandmother and your grandfather, silly!” And that just makes Haru’s cheeks burn hotter, because Grandmother still loves his grandfather _so much_ even though he’s been gone longer than Haru’s been alive, and he doesn’t think he’d mind sharing something as special as that with Makoto, either. “Ne, Haru-chan.” Haru looks up despite himself, because Makoto is suddenly so serious. “Let’s do both. Be like the stars and meet every year, ‘til we can be like Grandmother and your grandfather and be forever.”

Haru’s eyes light and his lips curve up because it’s perfect, and Makoto must understand because the seriousness leaves him; he’s smiling again, and he throws himself at him. The kiss to his cheek is unexpected, but not unwelcome, despite how it makes his face hot again, because Makoto’s never kissed him before. But since they’re going to be forever, one day, he suspects he should get used to it. “Okay,” Haru agrees and he turns his head to softly kiss Makoto’s cheek, too. “And our forever bracelets will hold our promise ‘til you come back.”

But Makoto never goes back.

By the time Makoto’s school breaks for two weeks the following spring, Makoto’s mom is _very_ pregnant, and for two babies, not just one. Makoto’s sad, but excited, too, and he tells Haru that he’ll miss him in the letter he writes, but that he’s still wearing his bracelet and he’ll _keep_ writing until they see each other next year. And he does, every month he does, telling him about the babies and school and the neighborhood cats and asking about his grandmother and the animals and the river, even though he never hears anything back.

For a whole year, Makoto writes him, and when spring comes the following year, he starts packing a bag, excitement and eagerness filling the hole that the worry that Haru’s forgotten him has worn through his heart. Because even though he trusts Haru and their promise, even though he’s never taken off the bracelet Haru made, why else would Haru not answer him back if not because he’d forgotten him, or because someone better than plain, ordinary Makoto had come along? And then his mother comes into his room one day as he’s adding something to his bag, and when she asks what he’s doing and he tells her, the look on her face says it all before she can even part her lips. Makoto turns away, flings himself onto his bed and _cries._ He doesn’t care that he’s nine.

Once he’s pulled himself together, he trudges dully to his desk and writes Haru one last time. It goes unanswered, as had the others, and two months after that, when the cord on his bracelet finally wears enough to where it falls off of him one day, he takes it as a sign and slips it into the special box under his bed with his first stuffed animal and the pocket watch his great grandpa had given him before he’d died.

Eighteen months later, the twins are going on three and toddling around and the Tachibanas have outgrown their little house. They’re not leaving Teshio, thankfully. Makoto likes his school and has made good friends, and the thought of leaving them makes his stomach hurt; makes him think of Haru, which makes it hurt worse. So he’s glad he doesn’t _have_ to think about it and can keep that old ache buried. His spring break that year is spent between dutifully watching the twins, which is exhausting, but he loves, and helping his parents pack, which he _doesn’t_ love so much, but he does anyway.

One day, after Ran and Ren have _finally_ gone down for a nap, his mom calls him over to his dad’s desk with a look of exasperated affection. “I’ve told your father ten times if I’ve told him once to pack up his drawers,” she says as she hands Makoto a box. “Just take everything out and put it in here, please, sweetheart.” Makoto nods and she smiles at him, absently pats his head and goes back to finish up in the kitchen. Makoto has to giggle a bit when he finds both the narrow drawer and then the top file drawer in utter disarray—and then his breath stops when he turns to pull out another handful of myriad papers.

Heart pounding in his ears, Makoto draws out a sealed envelope, and then another further down and then another… by the time he’s emptied the drawer, he has thirteen letters, his eyes are stinging and his fingers are shaking. No wonder Haru had never written him back. His letters had never been sent!

Angry and hurt, he storms into the kitchen with them. His mom looks horrified and tries to apologize, to tell him how they’d never meant to forget, but then Ran wakes up and starts crying, and that’s the end of _that._ Leaving everything as it is, Makoto runs off to his room, letters clutched to his chest, heart hurting fresh like no time had passed at all since that first letter had gone unanswered. But this time, the pain’s for Haru and how sad and hurt _he_ must have been—until the thought occurs that it doesn’t change the fact that Haru hadn’t ever written _him_.

Lost and confused and feeling very alone, that crack in his heart breaks wide and Makoto cries again. Because, by now, what’s the point? At ten-and-a-half, three-plus years might as well be forever; surely Haru-chan’s let go of him, if not forgotten him.

Eventually Makoto lets go of his anger and sorrow. He forgives, and even comes to understand what had happened with his letters, that it had been the accidental oversight of extremely stressed and harried parents and nothing deliberate. But he never forgets, not Haru and their promise, nor the ranch. Not really. Sometimes it’s months, even over a year sometimes, but his heart and mind always end up going back, to Haru and their vow, to Iwatobi. And when the time comes in his senior year for his career questionnaire, he writes down animal husbandry and thinks about Iwatobi; huge barns and wide-open spaces, horses and cattle and dogs and cats, and a river as blue as the eyes of his first love. Because he may have only been seven at the time, but at seventeen, Makoto has seen and heard enough about love and the pleasure and pain it brings to know that what he’d felt for Haru had been real.

Makoto smiles a bit, shakes his head. Eight years later, eighteen since he’d left Iwatobi and Haru for the last time, and there’s still a piece of his heart that’s missing, a hole that—despite his amazing friends, great family and academic success—has never truly healed. “Hopeless,” he says of himself in wry amusement as he looks at the packet in his hands, thirteen letters neatly bundled with blue string. And, at twenty-five, it really kind of is. But even now, Makoto can’t let it go, can’t put that bundle in the trash bin. He loved Haru. He still firmly believes that. And Haru deserves better. A proper goodbye, at the very least. So, now that he has the chance, he’s determined to. To try, at least.

Six months ago, when it had been time to apply for the one year internship he needed between graduation and sitting for his veterinary license, the first thing he’d done had been to see if any of the ranches in Tokachi were hiring. His heart had both leapt and twisted when Iwatobi was one of the hits—and then it had ached when he’d learned that it’s no longer with the Nanases, that there is “new ownership” over the place that holds so much of his heart and memories. But they were hiring for an intern, so he’d sent his application and letters of recommendations to Iwatobi with the others, even as he’d wondered where Haru was and what he was doing; how his life had turned out. Their reputation was still impeccable, plus, maybe by going there, he might find some closure.

They’d accepted him. And he’d taken it as a sign that it was time to try and let go.

Makoto softly chuckles as he studies the bundle of letters in his hands again and then he puts them in his suitcase. He’ll read them when he gets there and settled, he thinks. Revisit whatever he’d written to Haru as a boy when he’s in the place where he remembers him the strongest. At their spot on the river, he decides and, for a moment, that ages old ache surfaces again, but he’s become incredibly adept at swallowing it down by now and it passes quickly.

The box of his boyhood memories is empty, so he sets it to the side, only to realize that it isn’t. He takes a better look, and his lips curve up softly when he sees what had caught his attention: tattered, faded cords of blue and green. He picks up the remnants of that bracelet from so long ago, lightly rubs his thumb over the center of it and briefly marvels how the knot itself has remained so tight and sound even after all this time. He hesitates and then, after a second or two, shifts to slip a hand into his jeans pocket and pulls out the watch he’d had refurbished some time ago. The slight smile returning, he opens the locket at the back and carefully curls the remnants of the bracelet into it. He still intends to try and say goodbye and find some closure, but he doesn’t see anything wrong with hanging onto what’s a very sweet memory, either.

Makoto lets himself have a bit of a lie in in the morning, and when he gets up, he moves quietly so as to not disturb the twins, who are still sleeping. He pokes his head into the kitchen to say good morning to his parents, then starts taking things out to pack into the older model Jimny he’d purchased. There isn’t a lot; he’s twenty-five, but he’s still spent all of his life between his parents and myriad dorms and, save for what mementos he’s packed, he leaves what he doesn’t think he’ll need through the year in his room at home. 

“I still can’t believe you chose that piece of crap.” Makoto’s head jerks up in surprise from where he’d been slipping his suitcase in; pouts a bit when he’s laughed at for how closely he’d come to beaning his head on the door frame.

“Nice,” he says petulantly with a mock glare to his friend. “I’m leaving for a year and this is how you treat me?”

Turquoise eyes crinkle slightly as Sousuke’s smirk only widens. “Why should I treat you any different just because of that? Besides, it’s not like you’ll never be back, and I’ll never see you again. Like you said, it’s a year.” Something flickers through Makoto’s eyes, something Sousuke’s not seen for quite a while, and his expression softens some, because he _knows._

Makoto had told him about the ranch and about Nanase the summer between junior and senior high, when Sousuke had come to him so excited about going to Tokyo to swim instead of sticking around in Teshio. Makoto happiness for him, his excitement, had been _so_ obviously fake, and Sousuke hadn’t known what had hurt him, had made him angry, more; that, or that Makoto, who’s always had his heart on his sleeve, had been trying to lie to him in the first place.

Sousuke had called him out on it on the spot and Makoto had denied it; Sousuke has always had a hotter temper than his best friend and they’d been _at that age_. They’d never fought before, not like that; it had just made it all worse. Sousuke had taken a swing at him, only to be shocked into a stop just before contact when he’d recognized fear in Makoto’s eyes, realized that he was nearly crying.

Thinking it was because of what he’d (nearly!) done and feeling like utter shit for it, Sousuke had muttered an apology and had turned to leave, but Makoto had stopped him, had told him where his mind had gone, and why. And Sousuke had gotten it. After all, he’d had a friend that he’d loved and that he’d lost in about the same way, someone he’d faithfully written to, who’d never written back. (Never mind that he hadn’t known back then that swimming would bring him and Rin together again and that they’d end up being even _more.)_ And he’d hated this Nanase on the spot, for making him remember Rin, yes, but for how he’d hurt Makoto more.

He still does, he realizes, because Makoto is _good_ , and he’s done amazing things, and he’s _his_ _best friend_ , but this guy that he’s never met _still_ has such a hold on him.

“Tch, you’re an idiot,” is what he says, though, because they’re grown men now, but then, because it’s _Makoto_ , and they _are_ best friends, “You know I’ll come to see you.” And he will, even though he’s never spent a day in the country in his _life,_ and he still thinks that Makoto is crazy for willingly spending his internship on some farm out in the plains in Tokashi for nostalgia—Sousuke can’t be convinced that it’s anything more than that; he’s seen Makoto’s transcripts and has read his recommendations and knows that _any_ place would have snapped him up—even though he’s also quite proud of him for facing those memories and trying to seek some closure. “They have Wi-Fi and a pool out there, right?”

Makoto laughs. “It’s a working dude ranch, Sousuke, not a spa,” he teases, which earns him a playful glare, “But there was internet back in the day, and the river to swim in. That said, I’m sure that whoever has the ranch now has brought it up to the times, at least with the Wi-Fi.” He smiles at him fondly. “I know you’ll come see me. I do. In between adding more titles and medals to your collection. Butterfly king.”

“Shut up, Makoto.”

“Oh, or my favorite, the _Palos Verdes_ of the professional butterfly circuit.”

“Shut _up!_ ” Sousuke reaches over with a leg to give Makoto a kick, but Makoto, giggling in a way that no grown man should but that is _just right_ coming from his best friend, dodges, then, grinning, beckons him.

“C’mon. Mom’ll have breakfast about ready and I know she won’t mind to set an extra plate.”

Meals at the Tachibanas are always a lively affair, and breakfasts always bordered on hectic, even now, with the twins’ senior year of school and Uncle Taiyo having to catch the commuter to Wakkanai. But Sousuke has always been welcome despite it, and, as an only child with a much staider upbringing, has never minded it. It’s fun, and—through the years—has filled gaps he’d never known he’d had.

Saturdays are a bit more leisurely because nobody’s rushing off, and this one’s really no different, save for being a bit more emotional. They’re a loving family, the Tachibanas, and while all four of them are proud of Makoto for what he’s done and is about to do, they’re going to miss him.

Auntie Mariko seems to be taking it the hardest; she tries to fake her way through, but Sousuke’s observed those same expressions on Makoto’s face enough to see through it. He doesn’t think anything of it, save for a mother who’s having to let go, but after, when the twins have left for their clubs and Taiyo has settled into the living room:

“…forgave you and dad for that ages ago,” he hears Makoto say gently from the kitchen, and Sousuke pauses outside the door with the last of the dishes.

“I know. And you’re a good boy for it. I know how much Haru-chan meant to you. You boys were every bit as close as Yua and me, despite your young age. I just don’t think I’ve ever forgiven myself, Mako-kun. For that, or for how Yua and I lost track of each other. But with the twins, and then your father falling ill, us moving, never mind everything that happened on Yua’s side between losing the baby and her and Riichi separating, suddenly it had been five years, and then ten…” She fades off, softly sighs. “I think there was always a part of me, though, that held onto the thought of _someday_ , until you told me that Iwatobi had changed hands. And now—”

“I know.” Makoto’s voice grows muffled and Sousuke glances up, sees from what he can into the kitchen that he’s pulled Mariko into a hug. “But I’ll be there a whole year. And when you’re ready, Mom, you can come and try to find some closure just from being there, like me.”

Sousuke waits until Makoto’s let her go before venturing in. Mariko’s busy at the sink, but he can tell from the way Makoto catches his eye that Makoto figures he’s overheard at least some of it. Their house isn’t huge and the dining room’s just off of the kitchen. Neither of them says anything though, not until they’re outside after Makoto tells his parents a last goodbye, and _then_ Makoto turns to him.

“Sousuke.”

“I’ll check in on her, Makoto,” he says, anticipating. “As often as I can until I leave again.”

Makoto smiles a bit and thanks him. “Thank you. Honestly, I think she’ll be alright once I’m there and she knows I’m okay _being_ there, but right now, it’s all memories and worrying. Australia for you next, ne?” he says after a slight pause, and then his eyes sparkle suddenly. “And Rin?”

Sousuke rolls his eyes good-naturedly at the teasing, but nods. “Yeah, after he’s done hanging out with an old uni friend at the end of the month.” He arches a brow slightly when Makoto’s expression changes, takes on a wistful tone. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Makoto smiles a bit again, and it’s genuine, yes, but subdued. “I’m just glad the two of you found each other again.” He laughs softly then. “And I _really_ hope that this trip helps me let go. I don’t want to forget the happy memories; I don’t think I really ever could. Haru’s part of who I am, and he and Iwatobi are part of what shaped me. But, after seventeen years, it’d be nice to finally be able to let go of the hurt for good.”

“Ah. Then maybe we can work on finding someone to fill that space for you.”

“Sousuke!”

Sousuke shrugs at the scandalized blurt, Makoto laughs; they share a quick embrace and then Sousuke slips his hands into his pockets as he watches Makoto drive off. “Good luck,” he mutters after the lime-green eyesore, and he sincerely means it. Makoto’s dealt with the Nanase crap for long enough and he deserves to find someone who’ll make him happy. But that won’t happen until Makoto can open the door he’s kept locked on that vacancy in his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Makoto’s smile fades as Sousuke and his home vanish from his rearview, and he thinks about Sousuke’s last words. He’s had dates, a few kisses, and he’s enjoyed the experiences. He’s never done well when it’s come to confessions, though, even though there had been a couple that he knows, looking back, probably could have made him happy. But they’d just left him cold at the time, instead, because his heart has already belonged to someone once, and he’s _still_ not completely healed from it. Not that it’s _plagued_ him, not since those earlier days, but it’s still _there._

“Alright, Makoto, stop it,” he verbally chastises himself, and he reaches down to turn on the radio. “You’re not going to spend the next six hours in that place. You’re gonna enjoy the drive and, when you get there, you’re going to do what you need to, so you can do what you _really_ need to; take care of the animals and learn.” 

The music and pep talk do what they’re meant to and, for most of the trip, the past stays where it belongs. Makoto takes his time and enjoys the drive and the sunny weather. It isn’t until he sees the first sign for Iwatobi, just north of Urahoro, that the memories start to creep forward again. That said, that wistfulness is tempered with a bit of awe at the beauty that surrounds him; Tokachi is still as magical, as verdant and vibrant, as he remembered from when he’d been a kid. 

Before Makoto knows it, he’s at Iwatobi’s gates, and that’s when the nostalgia _really_ tugs, because the new owner had made sure that the entrance had stayed the same. It’s a pleasant sort, though, not painful, and Makoto finds himself smiling as he pulls up to the big house, where he’d been told to report.

Memories of him pulling his hand free from his mom and running around to the private entrance calling for Haru briefly flood him. His heart twinges softly, but it fades just as quickly in his pleasure that the house, too, appears to have remained the same. He doesn’t remember the guest lobby as vividly as other parts of the ranch; he and Haru had always been chased away from the ‘business side’ of things. But the check-in desk is right where it always was, so he figures that much of the place is the same, though he’ll admit that it feels a little weird, stopping there to introduce himself instead of having the run of practically the whole place.

“Mikoshiba-san will be with you momentarily, Tachibana-san.” Makoto’s eyes return to the young woman from where he’d been looking around; he smiles politely and nods. _Mikoshiba_. He’s the ranch manager and the one he’d done his Skype interview with but, beyond that, he’s not familiar with the name. Then again, the only ones he’d _really_ paid attention to other than Auntie Yua’s, Uncle Riichi’s, and Haru’s had been the Tamuras, who had been in charge of the kitchen and the animals.

“Tachibana!” Makoto actually startles at the booming voice and then rapidly turns; Mikoshiba is coming toward him from the entrance and Makoto’s face warms when whatever the man sees in his expression makes him laugh.

“Seijuro!” the woman at the desk sharply reproaches, but Mikoshiba just grins at her and winks. She returns it with a pointedly arched brow, and Mikoshiba hastily sobers and apologizes. “Tch. That’s why we keep you in the barn,” she declares, which makes Mikoshiba laugh again, and Makoto has to a bit as well.

“Sorry to you, too, Tachibana,” Mikoshiba says with a sheepish grin. “I’m just excited to have you, and not just for your accolades. Our specialist is old and talking retirement, our barns are full, and we’ve got a busy summer birthing season ahead of us, not to mention a couple of big buyers coming in.”

Makoto smiles and gives a proper bow. “I’m honored,” he says when he straightens. “I’ll work hard and do my best.” He lets his smile shift to a grin; Mikoshiba is boisterous, but he’s warm, and Makoto likes him. “And I’m excited to be here, too.” He pauses, thanks the girl behind the counter when she hands him a key, and then looks to Mikoshiba again. “Horses or cattle?” he asks of the buyers as they head outside together.

“Both.”

“Oh!” Makoto pauses for a moment and then, with a slight smile, “Is Tamura-sensei still Iwatobi’s specialist? I came to the ranch when I was a boy,” he explains when Mikoshiba looks at him in surprise, and then Makoto softly laughs. “Tamura-sensei had to chase me out of where I didn’t belong more than once, but I also saw my first birth thanks to him,” he recollects with fondness. His smile softens. Granted he’d only managed it because Haru had poked him every time he’d started to doze off, but as soon as the first kitten had come, he’d been _wide_ awake.

“Ah, excellent!” Mikoshiba grins. “We get repeat guests on occasion, but you’re the first who fell for the place so hard that you wanted to come back and work it! You’ll have to share your story with the owner when he returns. He and the family are in Honshu for a brief vacation; they left as soon as the last blossom fell, I think,” he says with a laugh. “But he’s due in tomorrow night. His Monday is full, but we’re to have lunch with him on Tuesday.”

“Sounds good.” And Makoto means it. He’s curious, of course, but also eager to meet the man who cares enough about the ranch and its hands to keep things so close to how they’d always been.

“So, Tanaka-sensei got you hooked on husbandry, but what was it about Iwatobi specifically? Don’t get me wrong; I love the place,” Mikoshiba continues when Makoto glances back over at him. “There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather live or work. But I’m curious.” He grins, teeth flashing. “I hired you, Tachibana. I _know_ we couldn’t have been the only place wooing you.”

Makoto laughs. “You’re not wrong,” he admits, because he too honest to do coy. His smile falls to a slight upturn of lips. “Iwatobi touched my heart,” he says simply. “And I’ve never forgotten this place. When I saw that you were hiring, well, no place else would do.”

“Good answer,” Mikoshiba states in a softer tone than what Makoto’s heard from him so far, and he lightly claps Makoto on the shoulder, then nods away toward the left. “The staff quarters are that grouping over there,” he says of the small cluster of cottages set apart from the larger, rentable units. Isuzu gave you C, right?” He nods when Makoto does. “I’ll let you get to it, then. Take the rest of the evening and get settled in, and I’ll see you for supper. The dining hall is off of the big house, around back to the left; hands and help eat at six. Oh, and there’s parking behind Tamura-san’s cabin. No vehicles allowed on the grounds, unless it’s something dire; though I see you chose your ride with the ranch life in mind,” he says with an approving look to the Jimny . “Anyway, we’re pretty tech savvy up here, but we still herd and monitor the ranges by horseback. You do ride, don’t you?”

“Mm.” Makoto smiles a bit. “I can saddle and groom, too. I spent the last two summers working at one of the riding clubs just outside of Sapporo; I knew I’d want the experience if I was fortunate enough to find a position at a ranch.”

Mikoshiba looks impressed, almost fond. “Iwatobi really _did_ leave an impression on you, didn’t it?”

Makoto smiles a bit and nods. If only Mikoshiba knew. 

By the time Makoto unloads his car, takes it back to park and then actually unpacks, he has just enough time to walk back to the dining hall for dinner. It had been a grand place to play on rainy days when he and Haru had wanted someplace bigger to spread out, be it for coloring or one of their make-believe adventures, but they’d never been allowed in during meal time, so it’s both familiar and new to Makoto. It goes well, though; the food is good and filling and everyone is nice. But he’s still ready to unwind and turn in for the night once he’s back in his little cottage. It’s been a long day, between the drive and all of the emotional ups and downs.

Sunday starts early; Makoto is up in time for morning chores per the schedule Mikoshiba had sent him. It’s all about the animals this early, feeding and watering, making sure the newest moms and babies are okay, doing the morning milking on the handful of cows specifically kept for those paying guests looking for the _full ranching experience._ When they’re done, they head into breakfast and then he and Mikoshiba go back to the horse barn and saddle up to spend the day on the range.

By the time dinner comes around again, Makoto’s both starving and nearly too tired to eat. They’d packed field lunches in their saddlebags, but they’d ridden the whole acreage so that Makoto could get the lay of the land and meet the field hands who stay with the herds grazing the furthest meadows. It’s farther than Makoto’s ever been on the ranch, both longer and further than he’s ever _ridden_ , but he’s fallen in love with Iwatobi all over again, despite the soreness he can already feel creeping in.

Makoto meets with Tamura after breakfast on Monday. It doesn’t seem that the old specialist remembers him by name and, for now, Makoto leaves it. He wants to focus on what the man has to tell him and reminiscing about the time he’d spent at Iwatobi with Haru would definitely split it. Tamura is just as kind and as knowledgeable as he’d been back in the day, but there’s a weariness about him, too, and Makoto understands now why Iwatobi had brought Mikoshiba on board. He can supervise the chores and ranging and manage the hands, which just leaves the barns for Tamura. It warms his heart, makes him even more eager to meet this new owner who, again, had shown such care when others may have nudged Tamura-sensei out for a younger man.

After a very full day, and with a pleasantly full stomach, Makoto decides to re-familiarize himself with the closer acreage. There’s one new structure in particular, to the rear of the big house and set back a ways, that he’s quite interested in. When he gets close enough, his eyes go wide and then he grins, pulls out his phone and snaps a picture to Sousuke. He’d been right in thinking that the structure was a pool house, but he’d expected the standard hotel-sized pool with maybe a hot tub, not an Olympic length. He looks at it a bit wistfully; he’d swam competitively through high school and then in casual clubs through college, and he hadn’t realized how much he’s missed it until now.

Sousuke texts him back. _Nice. Get your ass back in the water._

Makoto laughs. _I was just thinking that._

On the furthest side of the big house, far enough from the structure that noise won’t be an issue, but well within sight of the large veranda, a play area has been added. It’s a sign of the times, he thinks, when he considers how he and Haru had just run the grounds, but he also thinks that it’s good that the new owner had ensured that the kids with more protective parents could still get outside and play. 

Really, though, nothing else has changed, Makoto finds as he wanders; so little that he finds himself walking more through his memories than actually _seeing_. He catches images of himself and Haru in myriad places, hears hints of their laughter on the twilight breeze that blows, revisits echoes of conversations that waft through his heart and head. Eventually, he finds himself at the river, still as blue and as pure as when he’d been a boy, as Haru’s eyes had been. And, in that place, Makoto doesn’t bother to try and fight the longing anymore. He can’t. As he goes around a particular bend that curves just out of sight of the house and is shielded from the fields by a small copse of trees, he lets the door open on all of those bittersweet memories and his heart ache over the boyhood love that he’d lost.

“Makoto.”

Makoto isn’t certain how long he’s been standing there, but the call of his name causes him to start. He blinks, surprised by how dark it’s gotten, then quickly turns his head to the left. He blinks again, and then his heart stops. His breath. The entire world around him screeches to a careening halt. Because there’s no way. There just _isn’t._ But—

“Haru-chan?”

Haruka’s heart lurches, but he steadies it just as quickly with a subtle press of his lips. He’d known it was inevitable that they’d meet; it’s his ranch, after all, and Makoto’s going to be there for a year. And he’d known as soon as he’d seen the packet that Mikoshiba had forwarded to him for final approval that the new intern was the boy from his past. There was no way there could be two Tachibana Makotos. Not that age, in that profession, from Teshio. He’d almost told Mikoshiba to pick someone else, but the _why_ would have been too troublesome—Mikoshiba’s done too much for Iwatobi to deserve a _because I told you so_. Plus, Haruka trusts him. If Mikoshiba was that enamored with Makoto’s potential, then Haruka knows that he’s the best man for the job, so.

Besides, Haruka has gotten damned good at suppressing and ignoring those particular memories and feelings over the years. He’d be able to handle it during the few times he’d _have_ to interact with Makoto. Or so he’d convinced himself.

As the day of the _meet and greet_ luncheon drew near, however, he’d been forced to admit to himself that he didn’t have as good of control on his mind and his heart as he’d thought. But it had been too late by then; Makoto was already at Iwatobi, and Haruka definitely wasn’t going to spend the next year dodging him. It wouldn’t be professional, for one, and for two, maybe seeing him face-to-face would be what it took to finally get over it. That thought had only made his heart ache even more, though, and, angry and lost, he’d headed back to the pool.

The water hadn’t helped him, but Nagisa had. They’ve been friends since late elementary school, and Nagisa had been the first that had coaxed Haruka out of the shell he’d locked himself into. He’d been so bright and bubbly, but in a completely different way than Makoto had been. Haruka hadn’t been able to help it. He’d let Nagisa in, had confided in him one day not long after when he’d asked why the river made him sad. There’s only been one other he’s shared his story with, many years later, and for a much different reason, but it had never come up again after. Until now. 

Nagisa had known right away that something was wrong and, when Haruka had told him his suspicions, Nagisa had suggested that he find someplace quiet and deal with the memories tonight instead of taking the risk of having them hit him head on tomorrow. So he’d come to this spot, this place on the river that he’s avoided since he’d turned nine, because he knew that he _wouldn’t_ be able to repress those thoughts and feelings here, and he absolutely had to purge himself of them before he saw Makoto at lunch tomorrow. Haruka has a business to run, and he has no room for such troublesome things, especially since he’d been perfectly content in believing he’d put them firmly behind him long ago.

He just hadn’t anticipated that Makoto would be there, and his heart lurches again. _No_ , he tells himself firmly. _It’s an unfortunate coincidence. It means nothing._

“Ah,” he replies quietly to Makoto’s call of his name. Makoto tears up, he can see those green eyes glitter, and it’s so familiar despite the time that’s past and how they’ve grown—and grown apart—that Haruka’s own want to sting.

“Oh god. Oh!” Makoto briefly covers his mouth with his shaking hands but, when they drop as he takes a step forward, he has the _biggest_ smile. “Haru-chan, what are you _doing_ here? I—”

“No _chan,_ ” Haruka cuts him off, and it works; Makoto blinks, colors slightly, takes a half step back and nods.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and then, with a more tentative smile. “It’s just all I’ve ever known Haru as.” Haru just nods, doesn’t say anything more, and Makoto’s gut twists uncomfortably. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t; he’d just reacted, and before he realizes, he apologizes again. “You just caught me off guard, Haru.”

“It’s fine. And I’m here because Iwatobi’s mine.”

Makoto’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity overriding the new, sharper ache. “But everything said _under new ownership_ , so I just assumed—” He stops abruptly, paling slightly. “Haru, your mom and dad?”

“They’re fine.”

Makoto sighs, genuinely relieved. “Thank goodness. Is Auntie Yua here?” he asks after another moment, and Haruka shakes his head.

“They’re still in Honshu. They’ll be back next week.”

“They?”

Haruka nods, brow furrowing slightly. “My mom and dad,” he says slowly, and Makoto colors again.

“Ahh, of course. Sorry. Mom had told me a long while back that they’d separated,” he explains as delicately as he can.

And it hurts Haruka because Makoto should know, because there shouldn’t be this distance between them—and then his fists tighten because he _can **not**_ be thinking like that. “Just for a short time. They worked things out a long time ago.”

Makoto doesn’t miss the tension singing through Haru, neither in his stature nor his tone. “I’m so glad,” he says quietly, his own hands lightly clenching by his sides. “I look forward to seeing them both. And gr—your grandmother, too, if it’s okay?” he finds himself asking, and Haruka’s heart tugs _again,_ because it’s so plaintive, so sad.

“They don’t know that you’re the intern,” he admits. “ _I_ didn’t, for certain, until I actually saw you, so I didn’t see the point. But I’ll tell them. They’d want to know. And mom will want to know about Mariko-san.”

“Thank you.” Makoto’s heart clenches. _Mariko-san_ , not auntie. But again, what did he expect? Haruka doesn’t leave, though, he doesn’t walk away, so when he stays and the silence stretches, “So… the new ownership, then?”

Haruka can’t help it; a crooked smile briefly shows despite himself. Makoto hasn’t changed; he’s still always talking, still so curious. “Grandmother transferred the ranch to me when I was done university,” he says, sobering. “It was going to be me eventually anyway and, by taking it early, mom’s still free to go with dad when he travels without feeling guilty. That was part of their issue, back then,” he says quietly, but only because he knows Makoto will ask, he tells himself, not because it’s Makoto’s business. Not anymore. “Dad felt penned in out here after living most of his life in the city, and Mom felt torn between the family business and him. Grandmother took over running things again so they could see if they could save the marriage. When she transferred the rights to me, we kept the new ownership _deliberately ambiguous_ ,“ he says with finger quotes that make Makoto have to bite back a chuckle from Haruka’s obvious disdain. “It was a marketing ploy, not only to pull in a different crowd, but to maybe draw back more guests from before, because they’d be curious to see what had changed.”

“Smart,” Makoto admits, and then he smiles a bit. “Not much has, really.” But in his head, he’s going around in circles: _Except that everything was different, too, because you weren’t here. But now you are, and you’re still him, still my Haru-chan, still quiet and beautiful and strong. But you’re **not** him, either, because you’re grown, and you’re cold, and we don’t know each other anymore, and do you even want to?_ The very thought of _that_ pulls a lump into his throat and he turns his head toward the water.

“Makoto.”

Makoto’s eyes squeeze shut. “Mm?”

“It’s fine. We were kids. Forget it.” Haruka shows another one of those crooked smiles when Makoto looks up at him in surprise. “You’ve always been easy to read,” he says quietly, but inside, he’s anything but. Inside, he’s a whirlwind of thoughts. _It’s you. It truly is. I knew it would be, but I didn’t **want** it to be. But now I’m glad, but I’m angry, too, because I don’t **want** to be glad. It hurt so much, for **so** long, and I told myself I was finally over it, that I could handle it. Except now you’re here, with your eyes and smile, your **Haru-chan** , and I told myself I wouldn’t let myself feel, wouldn’t let you get close, but now…_

“Haru?” And god, Makoto can’t breathe for what he’s seeing in Haru’s eyes, want and longing and pain and fear; a reflection of the war he’s been fighting, and losing, in his own soul for years. Suddenly, Makoto feels a flicker of hope.

Haruka startles, and then his lips press, and he quickly looks away before Makoto’s expressive eyes pull anything more from him; before they break him further. “ I’ve got to get back to the big house. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow.”

Makoto nods and then, because Haru’s not looking at him, he calls his name again. “Haru, I nee—"

“Don’t.” It comes out more breathless, more desperate than Haruka had wanted it, and his fists clench even tighter as he takes a steadying breath. “As I said, it’s the past.” He takes a few steps away and then, “What we were then changes nothing about who we are, and who we are to each other, now,” he says, because he has to, he has to make that _absolutely clear_. For both of them. 

Makoto stares after him for a moment as he walks off, and then his head drops as his fingers curl into his palms. “No,” he says softly, “I know it doesn’t.” Haru’s his employer. Makoto works for Haru. That’s all there is. Haru’s made that perfectly clear.


	3. Chapter 3

Haruka stalks to the house, burning, breathless, aching, _wanting._ It’s Makoto. _His_ Makoto, only all grown and handsome and strong, and that makes it even harder because that love that’s always laid there, that he’s managed to ignore, to forget, for so long is not only _right at the surface_ , but it has a different tinge to it now that’s completely new and enticing to him. He’s only let a handful of people in past the barriers he’d constructed after Makoto had left him, and only one other as close as Nagisa. The thought of anything deeper, more intimate, to him had always left him cold—which was fine since his quiet, and sometimes standoffish, demeanor kept most from wanting to get close to him anyway.

But now.

“No.” The word is almost angrily spat as he pushes through the private door, and he rides that anger right into his office to snag the closest phone, and then punches out a number.

“You’re an idiot!” he seethes into it as soon as the call is picked up. “That was the stupidest thing anyone’s ever told me to do.”

“Haru-chan?” Nagisa blinks rapidly; Haru’s always been kind of short and to the point, but never angrily so, not at him, anyway, Plus he can’t remember what it— _oh_! “Taking a walk?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” he asked, truly befuddled, “Haru-chan, what—” Nagisa stops, breath catching, and then he slowly exhales. “You saw him, didn’t you. The intern. And it _is_ your Mako-chan.”

“ _Not_ mine!” Haruka gives back quickly before the want can rise again, despite having just thought it himself, and then he closes his eyes, and his jaw tenses. Essentially, he’s just answered Nagisa.

“Oh, Haru-chan,” Nagisa softly breathes, and then, “I’m so sorry. I am! I know it helps me, walking and clearing my head, so I just thought—but I didn’t that you might run into him, eh heh…” he rubs his head awkwardly.

“No, you didn’t,” Haruka retorts acerbically , but then his lips press, and his eyes fall shut. That isn’t fair. “But I didn’t either,” he mutters into the phone. A brief pause. “I’m sorry, Nagisa.”

Nagisa’s heart aches sharply because he knows Haru, knows that he’s a quiet, gentle, loving soul who cherishes those who stick with him long enough for him to let in; knows that it’s _because_ of that gentle, loving heart that he’s hurting now, has hurt for so long, has only _let_ so few in. It had been broken, and badly.

“I forgive you, Haru-chan,” he says simply, because he’s come to know that it doesn’t matter if he thinks there’s nothing _to_ forgive, it’s what Haru needs to hear. “What happened?” he asks after a few quiet seconds, because he knows Haru needs to talk about it, too, to get it out of his heart and head, or tomorrow is _really_ going to be hell for him.

Haruka _really_ doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to forget it, forget everything, Makoto, their conversation, how he felt, what he’d said, but he can’t. That wound from seventeen years ago has split wide and has had fresh salt poured into it, because how dare Makoto come back at _all_ , never mind so strong and warm and good looking, and _tall._ He used to be smaller than Haru for gods’ sake.

“Haru-chan?”

Haruka huffs into the phone impatiently. “I went to the river,” he says as he moves into his office further and drops into one of the visitor’s chairs. “He was there. Makoto. Just standing there. Looking at the water. He looked lost,” Haruka says quietly, because that’s what had drawn him, Makoto’s expression, so similar to the one he’d borne when they’d said goodbye for the last time. He clears his throat. “I was surprised. I said his name. He called me _Haru-chan._ What?” Haruka demands sharply when Nagisa gives a soft, _ohh_ to that.

“Nothing, nothing! It just sounds like maybe someone else has been holding onto a bit of the past,” he rushes when he recognizes _that_ silence from the other end of the line, which only makes sense because he’s talking to Haru.

Haruka grunts noncommittally, ignoring the flip through his stomach. It doesn’t mean anything. It could have been a triggered response, just like his call of Makoto’s name had been; it doesn’t matter how devastated Makoto had looked with what Haruka had said at the end.

…Actually, it does, he tells himself. Because that’s what he’d wanted. Even if, right now, it feels like a lie. “We talked. I told him I’d see him tomorrow, then I left.”

Nagisa’s brows arch. “That’s it?”

“That’s not enough?”

“Haru-chan! No! You’ve not told me anything!” Nagisa flops down onto his back; he loves Haru to death, but he can be so _difficult_. He bolts upright again, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Was he mean? What?” he demands when he hears Haru’s chuffed laugh into the phone.

“Makoto doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

Nagisa’s lips curve softly for how quickly and naturally that had come, but he leaves it. He sobers then. “Were you mean to him?” The silence tells him all he needs, including that Haru does, indeed, still care about this man, or he would have gotten a _no more than he deserved_ or something like that. “I’m sure he’ll understand, Haru-chan,” he says gently. “He has to know that you’re hur—”

“If he cared about _anything_ about me, he should have never come back,” Haruka cuts in before he can finish. “He never should have left me in the first place.” His body goes numb as soon as he realizes what’s slipped out, and then he licks his lips and swallows. “I have to go.”

“Har—”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Nagisa.” Haruka cuts in again, but he does gentle his tone this time, and then he disconnects the call. That burning, aching anger is gone, but in a way, he almost feels worse. Nagisa hadn’t deserved that, and he quietly sighs as he sets down the phone. He’ll make it up to him. Maybe make him some of those strawberry jam print cookies he loves so much but are such a pain.

“Haruka-chan?” 

Haruka turns toward the door. “Baa-baa?” Before he even finishes speaking, he knows that she’s heard. At least something that’s made her suspicious.

The words _is it true_ fade from Yuma’s lips. One look into her grandson’s eyes and she knows the answer. “So. Makoto-chan’s returned to Iwatobi.”

“Ah.” It’s not how Haruka would have preferred it to come out, but perhaps it’s better this way, he thinks. He’d really had no idea how he’d been going to broach it with his family anyway. “Mikoshiba hired him for the intern’s position. I didn’t know until tonight that it was _Makoto_ for certain, though, or I would have told you.”

Yuma nods. It’s like Haruka to bear the weight of such a possibility on his own, but she still wishes that he would have shared it with her. He’s always been like that though, has always suffered in silence lest he burden or hurt someone else.

Life had been unkind to the friendship that had flourished for so many years between her daughter and Mariko-chan, but it had been far crueler to the love that her grandson and little Makoto had shared. Two completely different souls they were, one as still as deep water, the other as bright as the sun that reached to warm it, yet there was age in both of them, and you only had to look into their eyes when they were together to know that they _belonged_ together.

Yuma can’t say for certain what had happened after Makoto had sent his first letter, but she has her suspicions. And she knows what had happened in Iwatobi. She feels partly to blame for that. Haruka had been _so_ heartbroken, but Yua had been pregnant and doing poorly; at the end, they’d nearly lost both her _and_ the baby, and Yuma’s focus had been largely on her daughter and helping her through. By the time the worst of it had passed, little Haruka had built the wall around his heart, and he’d had no interest when she’d belatedly encouraged him to try and reach out to Makoto again.

The shell around Haruka’s heart has thinned some over the years; some have even managed to penetrate it. But the piece of it barricading the hole that Makoto had left hasn’t budged and, after a few attempts, both early on and then when Haruka got older and boys his age started dating and such, Yuma had quit trying to scale it.

Now, however…

Yuma studies her grandson for another moment and then comes in, lays a hand on his arm. “It had to be painful, Haruka-chan. Bearing the _what if_ on your own. Seeing him again like that. And however it was that the pain made you react, you were entitled to it. But now that that first moment has passed, try and let it go, hm?” She smiles at him softly. “You’ve been given something that very few ever get; a chance to fill the hole in your heart with the very piece that’s been missing from it.”

“But why?” Haruka blurts in distress, knowing he’s safe with his grandmother, safer than he is with anyone else. “It’s been seventeen years, Baa-baa! And I was a child! Why does it still bother me this badly? Why has it never stopped?” he asks in a softer voice that tears at Yuma’s heart, because it’s not anything Haruka’s ever admitted aloud before, though she’s always known it.

“It’s been twenty-eight since I lost your grandfather, Haruka-chan, and I still love him and long for him just as strongly as the day I told him yes. And age has nothing to do with it. _I_ don’t believe. Hearts like ours, Haruka-chan, they _know._ And when we give them, it’s for good.” Yuma’s expression softens further when she sees the hope and confusion and fear race through Haruka’s eyes, and she draws him down into a hug. “You don’t have to decide this minute, sweet boy,” she murmurs against his cheek. “Just keep an open mind and listen. To your heart and, when you’re ready, to Makoto. Then you’ll know what to do, whether to let him back in, or to finally say goodbye.”

The light at the private entrance to the big house goes off and, with a quiet sigh, Makoto lets the curtain fall from his hand. He hadn’t even known that he’d be able to see it from his cabin until just a moment ago when he’d come in and had started shutting things down for the night.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed between now and when Haru had left. He’d not come straight back to his cabin. Makoto’s intent had been to wait long enough to give Haru the distance he obviously wants and then go back himself, but he hadn’t been able to stay in that place any longer. Its warm, sweet memories had been tainted by cold words and a rigid back and, though Makoto feels he deserves every bit of it, as soon as Haru had been out of sight, he’d jogged off in the opposite direction.

He hadn’t gone far, just out to the closest fence of the first pasture and then around the perimeter of the nearer acreage, but it had helped. His heart still hurts, but that sharp pain from the lash Haru’s words had cut through him has dulled. He wishes with all that he has that it could have been different. That they at least could have talked. But he gets it, too. He knows that, just like animals, each person reacts to pain in their own way. Besides, Makoto knows what he’d seen in Haru’s eyes, and he won’t give up on that hope that had flared and died. He just needs to give Haru some time and space first. Right?

_“What we were then changes nothing about who we are, and who we are to each other, now.”_

That flame falters again. Really, Haru couldn’t have been clearer.

The circular battle rages within Makoto’s head as he gets ready for bed, after he lies down… after about forty-five minutes of it, he sits up with a huff and grabs his phone.

_Haru’s here,_ he texts Sousuke, and then he flops back and closes his eyes again, only to start slightly when his phone rings mere seconds later.

“Nanase? You’re shitting me!”

Makoto can’t help but smile some despite himself. “Mm, no; I’m not.”

“Are you okay?” It’s brusque, but Makoto knows Sousuke, and that the terseness is his concern.

“I…” He gives a helpless laugh. “I don’t know, Sousuke.” He tells him what had happened, how he’d been doing well until they’d met at the river; tells him everything that Haru had said. “And then he just walked away,” he finishes quietly.

“Dick.”

“Sousuke!”

“Makoto. You said you didn’t know he was there until he called your name, right? Well, if that’s how he was going to be, he could have just left instead of calling out to you. So yeah, I say that was a _total_ dick move. But I kind of get it,” Sousuke admits after a second or two, albeit it reluctantly.

Makoto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, what?”

Sousuke sighs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, because you know how I feel about that guy. But it was kind of the same with me and Rin when we first saw each other again. I hated him because he left and never wrote, but there he was, still the same pain in the ass—”   
“Sousuke!” Makoto blurts with a laugh, and, on the other end, Sousuke smirks.

_Mission accomplished._

“Listen, just because I love the guy doesn’t mean he’s not a pain in the ass,” he points out. “Now, are you going to let me get to the point? Because, if not, I’m hanging up. It’s late.”

“Fine, fine. Go ahead, oh wise one.”

Sousuke smirks again even as he mutters a “smartass,” into the phone. “ _Anyway,_ as I was saying, I was conflicted. I knew in the first five minutes that all those years that I’d told myself I was over it was a lie. That I still felt something for him. And then I hated us both for that. So I told him all he was to me was competition, and barely that, and I walked away.”

“Ouch.” Makoto actually winces.

“Yeah. So like I said, dick move, on Nanase’s part, but I get it. Which means you have two choices. Leave it and focus on the job, or keep trying. Because there has to be _something_ there, or he _would_ have just walked off when he saw you. Hell, he would have told his foreman to pick someone else and avoid you altogether.”

“You think?”

Sousuke’s expression softens and he really, _really_ hopes he’s right because Makoto’s voice is _so_ hopeful. “Yeah. I do.”

Sleep comes a bit easier after talking to Sousuke, He’s always had a way of grounding Makoto, of giving him what he needs even if it’s not what Makoto thinks he wants. He’s much better at the tough love than Makoto is, but it’s alright, because Makoto knows he’s helped Sousuke, too, when it comes to opening himself up to the softer side of things. Makoto knows that Sousuke wouldn’t tell him to keep trying if he didn’t think there was hope, so he holds onto that and is finally able to drift off.

The morning brings a bit of excitement in the midst of the routine. One of the older mares is showing signs that she may foal early, but she’s healthy and hasn’t had a difficult birth before, so Makoto and Tamura agree that just watching her a bit more closely is an appropriate plan of care for now. “She’s a good mother,” Tamura is saying as they head back toward his office. “Now Kumiko—ahh, it appears that Mikoshiba-san’s collecting you for lunch,” he interrupts himself with a nod toward the stable doors. 

Makoto won’t say that he’s forgotten about the meeting, but he’s definitely been focused on other things. Tamura’s observation startles it right to the forefront of his thoughts again and that that weird, anxious hope tries to gnaw. Something must show in Makoto’s expression because Mikoshiba kindly laughs and drops an arm round Makoto’s shoulders as the head toward the house. “Don’t worry. He’s quiet, but a good guy, Tachibana. I’m sure you’ll hit it off.”

Makoto smiles weakly and nods. “Hopefully.”

Memories tug at Makoto’s mind as they go around to the private entrance, and then at his heart when he gets his first look into the residence that, at one time, had been his second home. While there have been minor alterations to the guest areas of the ranch, this place hasn’t changed at all. It makes sense, he thinks as he and Mikoshiba walk toward the family dining room. Haru’s the owner, but it’s still his family’s home.

Each door and hall they pass pulls a bit of his childhood memories forward. Stories in Grandmother’s room. Sitting on Auntie Yua’s bed, watching her get ready for a fancy night out. Running down the short hall to the left so that they could do the same with his mom. Makoto’s heart twinges slightly as he absently follows Mikoshiba around a corner. She’d always had the same room, his mom, while he’d always shared Haru’s. He wonders if someone else uses that room now.

_Is someone sharing Haru’s? Is that why he pushed me away so hard? But no. Mikoshiba had said he was away with family, and Haru only spoke of his mom and dad when—_

“Makoto?” Haruka’s lips press softly when Makoto visibly starts; he has no doubt where Makoto’s mind had been. It’s his first time back in the private part of the house and, even after all these years, he’d recognized that look in Makoto’s eyes that told he was running circles in his mind.

“Ah, hi, Haru-ch—Haru.” Makoto laughs nervously and runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry. I was just—”

“Lost in your head.” The slightest of curves flits over Haruka’s lips before he can catch it. “I know.”

Mikoshiba clears his throat slightly and they both turn to look at him; Haruka’s brief amusement fades when he sees the clear question in his foreman’s eyes. “Makoto used to come to Iwatobi when we were kids,” he explains, and Mikoshiba nods.

“He told me. Just not that he knew you, Nanase-san.” Mikoshiba glances at Makoto, who fights the urge to wave his hands in front of him when he sees the disapproval in that brilliant gaze.

“I didn’t know that Haru was here anymore, Mikoshiba-san,” Makoto states a lot more calmly than he feels inside. “Not until we ran into each other last night.” There’s a slight falter when he can’t bring himself to say _by the river_ ; that cut hasn’t healed enough yet.

“Nagisa’s _deliberate ambiguity_ ,” Haruka says dryly, and Mikoshiba blinks, then drops his head back in laughter.

“Brilliant!” He rights himself, then his expression shifts to something softer, if still amused. “Don’t worry, Tachibana. You’re not the first that’s fallen for it. It just always gets me; it’s still hard to believe, sometimes, that Hazuki’s such a genius PR and marketing guy. No offense, Nanase-san,” he offers, still grinning, and Haruka’s lips curve up slightly.

“It’s fine. I know.” He gestures them toward the open shoji at the end of the hall. “We should start. I have another meeting at one.”

“So, Tachibana,” Mikoshiba asks with a teasing lilt in his voice as they follow, “Would you still have come had you known?”

“Yes,” Makoto says without question, eyes locked on Haruka’s back. He’s grown, obviously, cool and handsome. filled out, an elegant figure from the cut of his shoulders to the curve of his— Makoto pinks slightly at the inappropriate thought. Despite everything, right _now,_ Haru’s his boss, for gods’ sake. “Yes, I would have.”

Haruka warms with the prompt response, and his fists lightly clench, torn between hating it and welcoming it.

“And you, Nanase-san?” Haruka looks at Mikoshiba as he slips into the chair at the head of the long table, a setting for Makoto at his left and for Mikoshiba at his right. “Would you have still accepted my recommendation had you known?”

Haruka’s fingers curl again, into fists this time, now that they’re safely beneath the table. Iwatobi wouldn’t be the same without Mikoshiba; the bright and brash redhead had made an indelible mark on the ranch from the moment his grandmother had brought him on. He’s kind, extremely capable, tough when he needs to be, and the hands love him. He’s truly pulled them together as a team. Haruka’s even grown fond of him, though not quite as a friend and, most of the time, Haruka doesn’t think twice when his foreman treats him _as_ one of the team instead of the owner-operator. He rather prefers it. But right now, he _really_ wishes that Mikoshiba would have checked his teasing at the door. He feels penned in, suddenly, and he wishes for the freedom of either the pool or the range, but then Makoto drops his napkin, then smacks his elbow as he bends to try and retrieve it, murmuring hushed apologies the entire time, and Haruka can’t help but chuff a laugh as he thinks that nervous Makoto is just as cute grown as he’d been when they’d been boys. “Yeah,” he finds himself saying as he settles his own napkin across his lap. “I would have.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> potential TW in this chapter for non-explicit mentions of the equine birthing process. No blood.

Despite what Haruka had thought about Mikoshiba as they’d seated at table, he truly _is_ glad for the other man’s presence. Every other time he’s welcomed a new hire like this, they’ve truly been _new._ He tells them about the ranch and its history, how their particular role contributes, asks about the hire, why they’d chosen Iwatobi, if they’ve had a chance to explore the ranch. It’s never anything Haruka looks forward to, despite how many times he’s done it now, but it’s not the same torture it had been at the start.

This time, however, there’s no need for _the spiel_. Makoto knows Iwatobi’s history; knows things about the ranch that Mikoshiba likely doesn’t. And Haruka has a fairly good idea why Makoto had chosen this ranch even though he’d not known that Haruka would be there. Even as a boy, Makoto had loved Iwatobi, the animals and acreage, each building and bend of the river that wends through it—what they’d known of it as boys, at any rate. And Makoto’s always been a sentimentalist.

At least Mikoshiba keeps the conversation going, though—thankfully—he avoids any additional personal questions or digs. Because Haruka is still reeling a bit from how readily he’d found Makoto cute before. He doesn’t want to be drawn to him anymore than what he is. He wants _all of that_ to go safely back to its corner so that he can lock it up and not deal with that hurt again. But then his grandmother’s words come back to him and he can’t help but wonder that, if it even did, would he be trading one hurt and loss for another.

Makoto is glad for Mikoshiba’s presence as well. His questions and conversation force Makoto to focus on the professional reasons why he’s come back, and that’s good, because inside; inside he’s a whirlwind. He’d been elated at Haru’s response, but ever since, Haru’s been shut off—at least, in appearance. Haru may have grown, but he still has tells, and Makoto knows that Haru is as chaotic inside as he is. He can see it in the flatness of his eyes and the line of his jaw, the particular paleness along cheekbones that are even more elegant now that his face has matured, the way he presses his lips together every few seconds. He thinks about what Sousuke had said; how, if Haru didn’t still feel, he wouldn’t react how he is. But it’s hard to have hope when it’s all making Haru so miserable.

Just before one, the door to the kitchen slides open. Makoto looks up, expecting to see the young lady that had been serving, but his breath catches softly and warmth rushes through him that leaves his eyes to slightly sting. Yuma’s smile gentles at the reaction and then she turns to her grandson.

“Your one o’clock is waiting in your office, Haruka,” she shares, and then, “And, Mikoshiba-san, I’d like a few minutes to say hello to Makoto before you bustle him back to your barns, if I might? I won’t keep him long, I promise.”

“Of course.” Mikoshiba glances at Tachibana as the three men stand, and that curiosity burns through him again. It isn’t unusual at all for Nanase-san to greet new hires; Iwatobi is still very much hers though Haruka has taken over. But he can also tell that there’s more to it than that. There had been an underlying tension beneath the pleasantness of the meal, and the looks he’d caught between Tachibana and Nanase when the other hadn’t been looking; had he been with his team instead of the owner and a temporary intern who is obviously a bit more than just _that_ to the Nanases, he’d be telling them to go off and fuck it out. “I’ll be ranging in the second tract, Tachibana, when you’re done,” is all he says, though, and he bows to Nanase-san, tips his head deferentially to Haruka, then steps out of the room.

“Makoto?”

Makoto turns his gaze to Yuma and his heart trembles a bit when he sees her outstretched hand. He quickly glances at Haru, but he’s already leaving, and his shoulder slouch slightly. 

_As I thought,_ Yuma muses as Makoto comes around the table, _He **is** hurting, too._ And when Makoto takes her hand, she gently tugs him down to give him a warm hug. “It is _good_ to see you again, my boy,” she says against his cheek.

“You too, baa-baa.” Makoto’s voice is soft, thick, but he can’t be embarrassed. He’d loved Haru’s grandmother so, and it soothes a particular jagged edge of his heart, the assurance that, despite everything, she still cares for him, too; still considers him hers. “Baa-baa, I—”

“Shh. I know.” She smiles as he straightens, lightly squeezes his hand. “Come. We’ll sit for a few minutes and talk.”

Haruka hears Makoto move around the table as he leaves and his shoulders tense slightly. He’s glad he’d turned when he had. He knows his heart isn’t ready to see the two people who mean—meant—the world to him like that, yet.

“Jeezus, who pissed in your cheerios?”

Despite the greeting, Haruka smirks a bit as he slides his door closed behind him, though he licks it away before he turns. “Nice,” he says flatly, and then Rin pushes up and Haruka braces himself—then returns Rin’s hug, if with a bit less gusto. Their builds are similar, though Rin is slenderer than him for the bit of extra height. He hugs like someone Makoto’s size would, though. His eyes briefly fall shut and then Rin drops his embrace and steps back, so he quickly opens them again.

“Seriously, Haru. What’s going on?”

_Damn it._ Not fast enough.

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Rin. You just got here. After what; almost a year? I don’t want to start with a fight.”

Rin studies him a moment, eyes narrowed. He’s always been more… generous with his emotions than Haru, but Haru’s never been one for either sentimentalism or backing down when Rin gets in his face. _Something_ is going on; something that’s pulled Haru back toward that shell that he’d had to bust through so many years before. But Rin’s learned over time, too, about Haru; he knows that, if he _does_ continue to push, Haru _will_ shut him out. “Tch. Fine. But you owe me later.”

Haruka nods, quietly offers his thanks, then grabs one of his bags. “Come on. We’ll toss these in your room and head to the pool.” It’s the best thing about summer, Haruka thinks as they head out; most who come to the ranch want to be outside, to experience the wild, versus camp out in the pool house. Which means he’s often free to swim uninterrupted even during public use hours.

The room that Makoto’s mom had used has been Rin’s for so long now that Haruka only feels a hinted tug—and he knows that it’s only because Makoto is there. He’d worn his jammers underneath his Chinos, so he undresses while Rin changes in the bathroom, and when Rin comes out, he feels a flicker of excitement for the first time in days, it seems. Their lives have taken completely different courses, but he still loves being in the water, and Rin brings a particular energy to it that fires Haruka up even though he hasn’t swum competitively since University.

“I tell you what, Haru,” Rin says as they step out and down the hall. “I’ve missed this place. I don’t think I could do it 100% of the time like you, but after training and traveling and the people and press, Iwatobi’s the perfect place to come back to.” He smiles a bit, a hint of color on his cheeks. “Next time, I’m gonna ask Sousuke,” he says. “He’d already had plans for home this time ‘round, but I think it’s time for the two of y—”

“Rin?”

Rin and Haruka both stop in surprise and turn when they hear Makoto call, and then Haruka’s jaw actually drops when Rin responds with Makoto’s name.

“Holy shit!” Rin continues and, grinning now, he stalks over to Makoto, draws him into a quick embrace, then steps back again. What the—wait, _this_ is the ranch you’re interning at? Iwatobi?”

Makoto returns the hug, grinning himself, stepping back when Rin drops his arms. “Mm. But what are _you_ —” His eyes go wide and then, “No, wait; _Haru’s_ the uni friend you’re hanging out with ‘til you go back to Australia?”

Rin’s eyes go wider. “ _Haru?_ You mean you know this guy, too?” Because Haru’s easy going and pretty hands-off when it comes to his staff and guests, but he’s never heard one of them address his friend so familiarly.

_That_ stops Makoto in his tracks, because how does he answer? He did once, wants to again, but… He looks to Haruka, and he’s pale, lost, frozen like a deer in headlights, And Makoto knows what he has to do. “Mm,” he says with a forced smile, and he can only hope that Rin doesn’t know him well enough yet to see through it. “But we’ll have to talk later. I’ve kept Mikoshiba-san waiting long enough. Haru,” he says softly with a tip of his chin and then he leaves Rin to Haru, or Haru to Rin. He doesn’t know, but his stomach twists, because he hasn’t known Rin super long, but does well enough to _know_ there’ll be conversation. At least it’s in Haru’s control, though, he thinks as he steps outside, and he’s not standing there gaping and stammering like an idiot.

_“Give him time, Makoto-chan,”_ Grandmother had advised him after he’d told her about the letters. _“You’ll know when the time comes to try and talk again.”_

Time, he’s got. And Grandmother and Sousuke both can’t be wrong, so Makoto’s hope has flared again. He runs a hand over his face and then drops it as he heads over to the stable. Right now though, it’s dampened by the mental exhaustion from the ups and downs of the day. _Morning,_ he self-corrects, seeing as it’s just past 1:30 right now. Regardless, it’s been a lot, and he’s glad he’s got the afternoon on the range—and the ride out to it to clear his heart and head.

Rin and Haru both watch Makoto leave and then Rin slowly turns toward his friend. “Haru—”

“Rin, no.”

“But—”

“ _Please._ Let’s just swim.”

The plaintiveness of Haru’s plea stops Rin in his tracks even as it confirms his growing suspicion as to just _how_ his two friends know each other. He’d been right earlier. Something was going on, something big. And it’s tearing Haru up, because he’s never heard Haru sound like that before, and if he didn’t know Makoto better, he’d be storming after him and kicking his _ass._ But he does, so. “Okay.” He gives Haru a smile, lopes his arm over his shoulder. “Okay. For now, we’ll just go swim.”

The next couple of days pass nearly as normal, and Haruka is glad for the shift. Rin does as he’d asked and leaves it alone—though Haruka knows it’s just a matter of time—and his grandmother does the same. Out of respect, he doesn’t ask her how her talk with Makoto had gone; had there been something she’d wanted to share, she would have. He’s curious as to what they’d talked about, but neither she nor Makoto had seemed upset afterward, so he leaves it at that.

Makoto crosses his mind frequently. Of course he does. And, as the time passes, it’s hurting him less when it happens. But that scares him. He doesn’t want to be hurt like that again, even though he knows that, this time, he’d have people, his friends, his grandmother, to catch him. He isn’t that lost, lonely boy with a very sick mother and a family on the edge of collapse that he’d been after what had happened with Makoto. But _that’s_ where Haruka starts to tense again, where that ball of confusion rises to nearly choke him. Because he doesn’t know _what_ happened and finding out means actually talking to him again, and…

“Haru!” Haruka blinks, looks over at Rin, who blinks himself and then sighs, runs a hand down his face. “I swear, you’ve spent more time in your head than with me these two days. Can’t we talk about this already?” he quasi-whines as he jerks open the door to the barn, and then he stops. “Wait what are we doing here again? I thought we were going to the pool.” 

Haruka rolls his eyes as he moves past his friend. “I still have a job to do, even when you’re here, Rin.”

“Right,” Rin mutters as they cut through the stalls, and then he leans in the doorway to Mikoshiba’s office as Haru drops the paychecks onto his desk. “Well? He demands when Haru turns back around, and he can tell that Haru had been hoping that he’d let it drop _again,_ but he doesn’t. Haru’s been better, yeah, but he’s not _himself_ , and Rin’s worried about him. It’s time. 

Haruka stares at him, sees the concern within his determination, and he sighs. Truthfully, he’s as surprised as he is grateful that Rin has lasted as long as he has. And Haruka does owe him an explanation. “Fine.”

Makoto takes a few steps back and then flips the switch on the wall closest to the gate. He shields his eyes from the bulb overhead, but then smiles and, after taking a last look around, he slips out of the foaling stall to retrieve Kyoko. It’s early in the day, yet; with any luck, she’ll deliver before nightfall. But at least he’s prepared if she doesn’t.

When he and Tamura had checked on her before breakfast, they’d known that today would be the day. It _is_ early, but the ultrasound three days ago had shown a healthy and developed foal, and Tamura is confident that both the mare and her colt will be fine. So confident, in fact that, as they’d headed back to the barns after eating, he’d glanced at Makoto, had feigned a yawn, and had turned the birth over to him. “Kyoko will do most of it for you anyway,” he’d said, “And I’m just a call away on that stupid cell phone the boy makes me carry.”

Makoto snickers to himself even now, wondering how Haru would react to _that,_ but then he sobers. He’d not seen Haru—or Rin, for that matter—since Rin had come in a couple days back; not for any length of time, at any rate. He’d been in the barn checking Kyoko when the two had come in to saddle up for a ride, but they’d been talking so, save for a wave, Makoto had let them be. He figures they’ve just been busy catching up though, and he _knows_ that Rin has been doing some much-needed relaxing. He and Sousuke both work their butts off between competition and training.

And he does know that Rin, at least, isn’t angry with him.

When he’d come back from the range that first day, he’d had a text and a voicemail from Sousuke. Rin had called him, he’d said, when Makoto had gotten hold of him, and then he’d muttered something about it being like some plot out of a B-rated novel. Makoto had laughed, and then had admitted that it really was a strange coincidence.

_“Yeah,”_ Sousuke had agreed, and then _, “So you know, Rin doesn’t know that Nanase’s your Haru. You know what I mean,”_ he added before Makoto could protest _. “He does know a little,”_ Sousuke had admitted, _“I talked to him about it in a general sense a while ago because he kept pushing me to keep hooking you up. He thinks you’re a great guy and deserves to be happy, for some reason,”_ Sousuke had said dryly. _“But I never mentioned a name. Just a crush that’d left you cold. Rin’s smart,”_ he’d warned then. _“And a romantic. I can’t say that he won’t do the math. But if he does, I wanted you to know that he’ll have gotten there on his own.”_

Makoto quietly sighs as he reaches Kyoko’s stall. Maybe it’s a good thing he hasn’t been around them more. He really doesn’t want it broached again until Haru’s ready. If he ever is.

Makoto presses his lips and gives a single shake of his head. He can’t think like that, he chastises, and then he pushes the gate open and everything falls away from him save for Kyoko. She’s restless, pacing back and forth, wrapped tail swishing, and the floor of her stall is a mess; ignoring it, Makoto hurries over to her, talks to her soothingly as he pets her neck with a hand and hooks a lead to her bridle with his other. She’s sweating, and Makoto is glad that Tamura’s as wise and on top of things as he is, that they’d known and had time to get the foaling stall ready for her.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thinking he’ll get her in and then come back to clean up while she gets herself comfortable, but then, as he’s leading her across the threshold, she tenses, then kicks suddenly at her belly and then the ground. “Shit,” Makoto mutters, and then he gently strokes her again, feels her tremble as she paws at the floor; with a whinny she drops her head down and then there’s a rush as her membranes rupture.

The other stall will have to wait. Kyoko needs him now.

Once Kyoko is ready to move again, Makoto guides her into the foaling stall. He takes the lead off, then steps back, lets her pace around. She nudges things with her nose once or twice, the buckets, the bedding, the spare bale of hay, and then she tenses and paws anxiously at the ground again before dropping her head back down and pawing some more. Once the contraction passes, she makes another circuit of the stall and then noses the bedding and lays down to flop onto her right side. “It’s alright, girl, I’ve got you,” he murmurs as he moves into the stall; he quickly latches the gate behind him, snags a pair of long gloves then kneels beside her.

“--koto? Seriously?” Makoto looks up when the voice drifts in as the far door opens. “The guy from when you were kids?”

“Rin!”

“Pft. Haru, please. It’s deserted in here!” he gives back, but he does lower his voice. Makoto’s eyes briefly squeeze shut—he _so_ doesn’t need this right now—but then Kyoko’s nearest hoof catches his thigh as she frets, and his focus is all on her. He strokes her nose soothingly, then tugs on his gloves and shifts more toward her rump.

“The guy that made you totally lose your shit with me way back when, when I tried to set you up? That’s _Makoto_?” Haruka nods, jaw tense—it’s not a pleasant memory for him—and then it clenches tighter when Rin softly hoots “No wonder Sousuke got weird and kept asking if Makoto was alright! Christ, no wonder you never got over him. Makoto is amazing, and _hot,_ holy shit!”

“We were kids, Rin!” Haruka hisses, cheeks blazing, but Rin just talks over him before he can demand to know what Rin’s boyfriend has to do with _any_ of this.

“And the best part? He never got over you, either! I mean it!” he persists when Haru freezes and then abruptly turns his head the other way. “Sousuke has tried like, so many times to hook him up with someone, and— oho!!!” Rin’s teeth flash with his grin, and Haruka mentally swears for having been shocked back into looking at him. “ _We were kids_ my ass! I saw that jealousy, Haru.”

“You’re imagining things.”

Rin rolls his eyes. “Rght. Whatever. _Anyway,_ Sousuke’s tried, but it’s never worked out, and now I know why; it’s because of _you!”_

Want and hope tear through Haruka again, but his fists clench because the fear’s still there, too, though weaker. He wants his grandmother, wants his friends, his _heart_ , to be right so badly, but there’s still so much he doesn’t know. “People change, Rin,” he says stiffly, for lack of anything better.

Rin snorts. “Yeah, _people,_ but not you. And apparently not him, either. It’s been what? Seventeen years since all that shit happened? And you’ve still got it for him, Haru, I can tell. And Makoto still came here— and don’t say it wasn’t because of you. I know the professional experience is part of it, but I’m telling you, Makoto chose Iwa—” 

“Rin!” The sharp call of Rin’s name causes both Haruka’s and Rin’s eyes to open wide. They quickly move to the other end of the barn—and then stop in shock again, just barely avoiding the mess on the floor in front of the foaling stall. They look up and Haruka’s eyes go wider; Makoto’s kneeling at Kyoko’s rump, hand fully inside her for a manual check. “Voice down or take it elsewhere,” Makoto says evenly as he strokes her flank. “She’s not exactly the most comfortable to begin with and you’re _not_ helping.”

Rin swallows, nods, and then grimaces. “Shit, that’s gro—Haru, wait!”

Haruka hears him but doesn’t stop; he just keeps stalking toward the exit, completely mortified over whatever it is that Makoto may have overheard.

Rin goes to take off after him, and Makoto calls his name again. “You’re not helping him right now, either,” he says quietly and with a small smile—one that briefly shifts to a smirk when, after nodding, Rin grimaces again and turns away. “Good,” he quietly breathes as he determines that the colt is presenting correctly and, softly soothing Kyoko, he gently removes his hand and then settles back on his haunches again. “It’s done, Rin. You can look now.”

“Shut up,” he mutters at Makoto’s teasing tone, and then, uncertainly, “How much did you hear?”

“Everything from when you put two and two together and got me,” he admits as he stands. He takes a quick step backward when Kyoko abruptly stands to start to pace again.

“She okay?”

Makoto nods and smiles. “She’ll alternate between laying and standing ‘til she’s ready to birth. I’d say within the next couple of hours given how the foal is presenting.” He softly laughs when Rin grimaces yet again. “You went through it too, you know.”

“Now who’s not helping?” Rin snipes, and then, after worrying his lips, “Listen. Don’t be pissed at Sousuke, okay? He didn’t tell me much, I swear. Not even a name. I didn’t even know a name.”

I know. Sousuke told me.”

Rin nods, then tilts his head slightly. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Makoto admits. “I think I will when I’m ready though.” He laughs at the confused look Rin gives him, and then sobers when Kyoko neighs and kicks at herself again before dropping back down to lay on her side. “Right now, though, I’m going to help Kyoko birth her foal.”


	5. Chapter 5

It takes a _bit_ longer than what Makoto had anticipated, but Kyoko does well and, just over three hours later, is nursing a healthy colt as Makoto cleans up the foaling stall and hallway. She’ll stay until Tamura gives the okay to move them back to Kyoko’s stall and then will likely be turned out into the smaller paddock tomorrow. Makoto is a mixture of exhausted and elated. He’s observed, and assisted, with any number of births at this point, but it was his first solo, and he’ll admit that he choked up a bit as he watched her with her colt, watched him struggle to his sweet, wobbly legs so he could nurse.

Makoto _really_ wants a shower, but he stops by Tamura’s office first, reports on how the delivery had gone, what he thinks the plan should be for the next several days for both of them. He can tell from the way Tamura beams at him that he’s done well, and he laughingly bows and backs out of the office when he’s told to go wash the stink off and report to Mikoshiba. The redhead takes the news just as elatedly, congratulates him with a clap on the back as they head into dinner together. Makoto thinks he’s as grateful for the latter as the former; he’d not once thought about lunch and he realizes that he’s ravenous.

It isn’t until after, full and content and coming down from the high of the day, that he thinks about the conversation he’d overheard. He knows it wasn’t his fault, but the more he considers it, the more he worries that it’s one more strike against him. He needs to apologize, he decides. Because he can’t deny that he’d heard, even as his focus had been on Kyoko and taking care of her.

Steeling himself, squaring his shoulders, Makoto heads to the private entrance. He takes a quiet breath and then knocks; is surprised when, a moment later, Rin answers the door—though it more looks like Rin is heading out than responding to his knock, from _his_ surprise. “Sorry,” he apologizes with a smile, belatedly realizing that Rin must be on his way to the pool, and he stands to the side. “Uh, is Haru coming with you?”

Rin softly snorts and shakes his head. “He’s in his office. Been there most of the day.” He presses his lips tightly, then sighs. “Listen, I don’t know what happened, and I know it’s not my business, but the two of you need to work your shit out. It’s eating him up. And you, too. So yeah.” He lays a light hand on Makoto’s arm then slips past him to cut across the yard.

Makoto watches him for a second or two, then quietly slides the door shut. He uses the bootjack, then takes a pair of slippers and heads down the hallway. Haru’s office door is open and Makoto stops just outside; he’s got an envelope and letter clutched in his hand, but his focus is on something in his other. Makoto’s breath catches softly when he realizes what it is, but Haru’s head snaps up and his eyes instantly narrow when they land on him.

_Damn it!_

“Haru, I’m sorry! I—” he cuts himself off when Haru stands up, and then he takes a step back as Haru strides toward the door; he’s forced to make a quick grab at the items Haru thrusts at him as he stalks by. Confused as hell, Makoto glances down and then his eyes fill. _Returned uncollected_ has been stamped across what he can see of the envelope. And the envelope is addressed to him.

_It’s okay_. He reads in Haru’s neat penmanship on the part of the letter that’s visible, _Mom told me about the babies. I’ll wait for you._

Haru _had_ written him back. Had made him a new bracelet, even, and from the appearance of the envelope, it had been taped to the package that it had been sent in. And Makoto turns and runs down the hall toward the door, not quite able to blink back a set of tears. “Haru. Haru, wait!” he calls out when he sees Haru just stepping out, “Please!”

Haruka freezes, heart pounding, fists clenched. He’s not mad that Makoto had overheard that morning. He knows that his eavesdropping hadn’t been deliberate; that, had Rin not raised his voice in his frustration, Makoto wouldn’t ever have drawn attention to his presence. His focus had been on Kyoko. But he’s anticipated all day that Makoto would come for him, because he also knows Makoto, knows that he’d fret that it would seem like he’d _let_ them carry on. Makoto would want to apologize, to try and put things to rights, because of who he is, but especially because there’s so much unresolved between them. Because Makoto wants _them_ back, likely wants them to be _more._ Haruka hadn’t been blind to the hope and want that first night in Makoto’s eyes. He’d seen the echo of what he’d felt in his own heart before he’d pushed Makoto away.

But that doesn’t make him any more ready for this, the conversation that’s nearly two decades overdue. And for Makoto to have caught him like _that,_ indulging in something so… _sentimental—_

“Haru.” Haruka’s jaw tenses and then he flinches slightly when he feels Makoto’s hand wrap gently around his wrist. His eyes jerk up and Makoto gives him a small, timid smile. “Come with me. Please? I—there’s something you need to see. Please,” he says again when Haruka hesitates; after another second, Haruka gives a stiff nod and Makoto breathes his thanks and lets him go.

They don’t say anything as they cut across to the staffing quarters, nothing until they’re inside and, after setting Haruka’s letter and bracelet down like a most precious treasure, Makoto pulls his suitcase from under his bunk. He gives Haruka another small smile as he lays it on his quilt and pops it open, and then, after a second, he turns and hands him a packet. Haruka’s heart catches hard in his chest and his own eyes sting. It’s a bundle of letters. Addressed to him.

“My heart never stopped hurting,” Makoto tells him, his voice soft and thick. “As excited as I was to be a big brother, not even the babies could take it away. I wrote and wrote, every month that first year, telling you how much I missed you, but that hole never filled because I never heard back from Haru. And when I didn’t, even after that last letter went—” Makoto swallows, tries to steady his voice. “That hurt worse than anything,” he whispers, and another set of tears leaks when he sees the ones escape down Haru’s cheeks as Haru closes his eyes. “But now… Haru-chan…”

Haruka feels his heart clench again at the teary nickname, senses Makoto move just a bit closer. “Haru-chan, look at me, please?” Haruka draws an unsteady breath, opens his eyes, and he’s taken back years when he finds himself looking into Makoto’s; bright and wet like the spring grass with dew. “I never knew about the package, Haru. I never knew my letters weren’t sent. Not until I found them when we were packing to move. Mom and dad, they were too harried with everything going on to remember to send them; to go collect your package, too, I’m guessing.” He reaches into his pocket then, draws out a watch. “But even when I thought that Haru-chan had probably let me go, I couldn’t. I…” he laughs, tearfully, shakes his head. “Even after seventeen years, I couldn’t,” he says as he pops open the locket and hands it to Haru. “My grandfather’s watch,” he says when Haru slowly takes it. “I had it refurbished for my work when I graduated with my veterinary degree.”

Haruka’s breath catches again when he sees the frayed cords and forever knot carefully placed in the locket. His eyes squeeze shut again, and another set of tears escapes as he takes a tremulous breath and feels an ache that he’d tried to convince himself had gone long ago finally heal. “It’s always been Haru,” Makoto is saying. “Always. And when I saw that Iwatobi was offering an internship, of course I wanted it for the experience and opportunity to work on a ranch with your reputation, but I wanted it for Haru, too. To see you and try to mend, or to finally say goodbye.” He laughs suddenly, still thick, but there’s a giddy happiness there, too. “Of course, I know better now, but when I saw the _new ownership,_ I reconciled myself to the latter.”

Haruka takes a breath, and then another, then blinks open his eyes, lifts them from the locket to Makoto’s. “And now? Do you still want that? To say goodbye?”

New tears rise to Makoto’s eyes and he shakes his head. “I’ve _never_ wanted that, Haru,” he all but chokes out. “ _Never_. It’s always been you,” he says again. He manages to steady himself again after a moment, softly clears his throat. “And you?” He meets Haru’s eyes when Haru raises them again. “Do you still want a strictly professional relationship?” It kills him to, but he presses on. “I can, if that’s what Har—”

Haruka can’t stand it anymore. He quickly takes the two steps forward and hugs Makoto around the neck… breathes a final, shuddering sigh when, after a moment of shock, Makoto’s arms come around his waist. “Makoto still talks too much,” he declares against his shoulder. Makoto laughs into his hair as he holds him tighter. “Okaeri, Makoto.” It feels weird, saying it first, Haruka thinks, but it absolutely feels right, too.

Haru’s hug had stunned him, had forced a crack through the tenuous hold he’d been managing on that damaged part of his heart, but those two words break through the rest of the lock, bare that space and fill it, and Makoto can’t quite hold back the soft, hiccupped sob as a final set of tears escape down his cheeks. “Tadaima, Haru-chan,” he manages in a soft, shaky whisper arms tightening further, and Haruka’s face blazes anew when he swears he feels a press of lips against the top of his head before one of Makoto’s hands shift up to cup the back of it. 

Makoto softly strokes through Haru’s hair, his heart fluttering when he thinks he feels a kiss to his shoulder in return for the one he’d dropped onto Haru’s head. A glance down and a lightly pinked cheek makes him think he was probably right, and he squeezes Haru just a little bit tighter. “It took us a bit longer than a year this time, Haru-chan, but we found our way back to each other again. Just like the stars.”

Haruka’s eyes squeeze shut and his hands lightly clutch against Makoto’s shirt as another tear escapes. “Ah,” he breathes, and then he tips his head up when Makoto lifts his own. They hold gazes for a moment and then, heart racing, Haruka tips his head up a bit further as Makoto tilts his down to accept his kiss. It’s as chaste as the ones they’d placed to each other’s cheeks so long ago, and yet it’s _so_ much more. Healing. Commitment. Promise. A taste of more to come. And it leaves them both as pinked and breathless and warm as any deeper kiss would have.

Makoto pulls Haru close again after, relishing being able to hold him. His eyes drift closed when he feels slender fingers in his hair and he softly chuckles. “You’re going to put me to sleep and I’m not ready yet. I want to talk to and hold you more.”

Haruka pinks again but nods; they part from each other and he lets Makoto take his hand, lead him to sit on the edge of the bed with him. “You’ve had a long day,” he says, more to keep the silence from building than anything. He smiles a bit then, tips his head up. “Tamura-san told me things went perfectly with Kyoko. But I know it’s still stressful work. I’m sorry that Rin and I added to that.”

“Mm mm,” Makoto says with a shake of his head as he slips an arm around Haru. His heart skips softly when Haru turns that pretty pink again but leans against him anyway. “You didn’t know what was going on. _I’m_ sorry I overheard what I did. It was just poor timing all around, I guess.”

“Maybe not,” Haruka says quietly after a beat. “We’re sorted out, now. Things are right again.”

“Finally,” Makoto agrees with a hint of a quiver to his voice; he can’t help it. The emptiness had been there for _so_ long that it’s almost overwhelming to feel complete again.

“Ah.” And Haruka nestles just a little bit closer, too drained, too elated, to be embarrassed.

“I’ve only ever wanted this,” Makoto says as he rests his head against Haru’s. He smiles softly. “Even back then I knew my only love would be Haru, remember? Even though we were only kids, I knew.”

“I remember,” Haruka replies, cheeks warming as they had back then when Makoto had talked about a love like his grandmother’s and grandfather’s. “I did, too. I don’t think it matters that we were just kids. Grandmother said hearts like ours, they just know.”

“I believe that,” Makoto murmurs and he presses another kiss to Haru’s head because he _can,_ and then he softly clears his throat because just _that’s_ enough to bring a lump to it again. “I know just the thought of trying to love someone else has always left me cold.”

The soft press of lips warms Haruka through, and his eyes briefly sting again. He can’t believe how happy he is, couldn’t begin to describe how it feels to have that hole filled. “Me too,” he whispers, and then, after a moment, when he’s in better control, he adds with a soft, amused huff, “Despite our friends’ best intentions.”

Makoto chuckles softly, his eyes falling closed. “Mm. Though they meant well. I do believe that, too.” His lips curve up a bit again. “I still can’t believe you’re friends with my best friend’s boyfriend.”

“I can’t either, somedays,” Haruka deadpans. Makoto giggles, which thoroughly enchants him, pulls a grin from him that dimples his cheeks, and god, he can’t recall the last time he’d smiled like that. “But seriously, it is something, the coincidence.” Haruka can’t deny that. “We swam together in University, Rin and me. He’s a pain in the ass, but— what?” he interrupts himself to say when Makoto suddenly laughs again.

“Sousuke says the same thing about him. He’s a pain in the ass, but he loves him.” Makoto takes a second to suppress a yawn. “I’ve only been around Rin a few times before this, but he seems like an overall good guy. Sousuke is, too. We’ve been friends since elementary school.” He smiles then, opens his eyes, tips his head so that he can smile down at Haru. “Their story’s a lot like ours; did Rin tell you?”

Haruka can’t look away; Makoto is _so_ handsome, even as obviously tired as he is, and he’s so _close_. “Ah.” He hesitates, just briefly, then brings a hand up to lightly stroke fingers through Makoto’s hair and down his cheek, and he’s warmed through again with how Makoto closes his eyes and leans into it. “You should sleep,” he whispers as he repeats the caress. Makoto opens his eyes again and Haruka tips his head slightly to press a light kiss to his lips.

Makoto _smiles_ , and there’s so much happiness, so much love for him in it that Haruka’s face warms; Makoto softly laughs and then gently coaxes his gaze back to his when he looks away. “You’re beautiful.” He strokes along Haruka’s jaw with his thumb. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Haruka’s face is on fire just like when Makoto would praise him when they’d been boys, and he lightly pushes Makoto away, doing his best to keep his own smile from showing. “And you’re as ridiculous when you’re tired as you’ve always been.”

“Hey!” Makoto tries to pout, but he ends up laughing, and Haruka can’t help but give in and smile again as he stands. Makoto does as well, trails after him the short distance to the door. “Can I see you after dinner tomorrow?” he asks as Haruka turns to him. Haruka’s cheeks warm again and he nods, and then,

“Do you still swim?”

“Mm. It’s been since university; high school since I did so competitively, but I do. Back,” he says to the question in Haru’s eyes.

Haruka is elated. Swimming is his one passion outside of Iwatobi, and he can’t describe how it feels, knowing that he can share that with Makoto, too. “Come swim with Rin and me, then we can take a walk after?

“Sounds perfect.” Makoto brings fingers up to caress through Haru’s bangs and then down his cheek to his chin— god, he just can’t get enough of touching him. Haru meets him as he had before, but this kiss lingers slightly; no movement, just a longer, slightly firmer press, but it still wants to steal his breath away. “Let me walk you home,” Makoto says when they part, and it’s foolish; he can watch from his door. But he’s so loathe to part from him that he offers it anyway.

Haruka’s face warms. It’s ridiculous. It truly is. He knows Iwatobi like he does the water, like he does his own name, plus Makoto could literally stand right there and watch him. Yet it’s sweet and romantic and so like Makoto, his Makoto from memory, who, even as boys, had possessed a gentle, romantic soul, that he _wants it_. But he’s always protected Makoto, kept him safe, grounded him when his soft heart and high emotions threaten to sweep him away, so instead, he smirks gently and shakes his head.

“Idiot Makoto. Then I’d have to walk you back to make sure you didn’t fall asleep in the yard,” he teases before gentling his expression and tone and stepping into him again. “Next time.” Makoto nods, another kiss is shared, one that almost convinces him to take Makoto with him, but he makes himself step back once they part. “Goodnight, Makoto.”

Makoto’s heart warms to bursting when Haru chides him, watches over him as he always had, and god, he _really_ doesn’t want to part from him. But he truly is exhausted, and morning will come early enough as it is. “Sleep well, Haru-chan,” he murmurs when they part, and he opens the door for him—and then freezes, because Rin is _right there_. “Rin!”

Haruka’s brows arch up as he peers over Makoto’s shoulder and he mentally facepalms when Rin looks from Makoto to him and then gives a shit-eating grin. “What do you want, Rin?” he demands before Rin can start any nonsense. Because he _so_ knows the look.

“Nothing; I was just walking.” Rin rolls his eyes when Haru just pushes that brow up again. “Fine, geeze! I couldn’t find you at the big house, and I was worried, okay?”

Both of Haruka’s brows rise at that. “About what?”

“Abou—both of you, asshole!” Rin gives back. “You _never_ skip out on the pool, no matter what’s going on, and Sousuke’s threatened bodily harm if Makoto gets hurt, so.”

“He did what?” Makoto blurts as Haruka’s eyes go wide, and Rin quickly waves his hands in front of himself.

“Kidding, kidding! He did tell me to watch out for you though, even after I told him he was being dumb, because Haru wouldn’t ever hurt you on purpose, no matter what happened.”

Makoto softly sighs, gives a small shake of his head; he’s warmed by it, he is, but he feels Haru tense and he really wishes Rin wouldn’t have gone there. “He’s a bit... protective, Sousuke,” he tells Haru with a slight smile, and then he gives Rin a look when he snorts and scoffingly echoes what he’d said. “Something he and Rin have in common it seems.” His smile softens. “But Sousuke is _good_ , Haru. I don’t know where I’d be without him. And he’ll be as happy for us as anyone when I tell him. He’s an amazing friend. Rin?” He looks out at the redhead in concern when he hears a sniffle from him.

“‘m fine!” Rin blusters, jerking his head sharply to the right. Makoto’s brow dips, but Haruka’s lips curl.

“He is. He’s just crying because you got sweet and sentimental.”

“Oh fuck you, Haru!”

Makoto blinks, and then laughs, but that gets cut through by a yawn; Haruka’s smirk fades and something gentler settles into his eyes as he looks at Makoto again. “Go sleep,” he says softly and with a discreet touch to his hand. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Makoto can’t fight it anymore; he just nods, lightly squeezes Haru’s fingers, then looks to Rin. “Goodnight, Rin. Goodnight, Haru-chan,” he says more softly as he stands by to let him out, and then he closes the door. Smiling almost giddily between being tired and so very happy, he grabs his phone to send Sousuke a text as he flops back onto his bed. _You were right about Haru, Sousuke. We talked tonight. And we’re good._

“Haru chan?”

Haruka’s cheeks flare and he casts a glare up at his friend. “Shut up, Rin.

“What? It’s cute!” Rin huffs when Haru’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Fine, fuck.” He smiles suddenly, as soft and gentle as he’d been bristly before. “I’m happy for you two, man. And seriously. Don’t worry about Sousuke. Makoto’s right.”

“Which part?” Haruka’s gut twists slightly. He doesn’t usually care what others think, but Sousuke’s a different story. Rin’s important to Haruka, a precious friend, though he’d never tell _him_ that, and Rin’s so head over heels for the guy that it makes it important in its own right. But he’s Makoto’s best friend, someone who obviously cares very much for him and knows _their_ story… He doesn’t care if they end up being close, or even friends, but he really would rather this particular guy _not_ hate him. 

“All of it,” Rin admits, because Sousuke can be ridiculously protective. “But he adores Makoto, so I know he’ll be glad. And if he’s a dick when you finally do meet, I’ll cut him off.” Haru’s steps actually falter and Rin’s teeth flash in triumph. It’s deserved, he thinks, for how Haru’s needled him all night.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Haruka says dryly, but then his brow arches when Rin’s expression changes, becomes thoughtful. “What?”

Rin glances at him and smiles a bit. “Just... it’s great how this all turned out. It is. I’m really happy for you two. But Haru, I won’t lie; it can be hard at first. Real hard. I mean, you have this ideal, this memory of who he was, and yeah, that boy, the core of him’s still there, but he’s not the same, either. That hurt and time and distance, _life_ , it changed us both, and I had to learn to accept that there are things I will never know about him, memories I wasn’t a part of, and things about him that I know I don’t really like. And I know Sousuke’s the same with me.”

Haruka’s quiet for a moment, because he’s not thought of that, not yet; he’s been too high on their coming together again. But he can’t deny the truth in Rin’s words, and it _is_ a little troublesome to think about. “It’s worth it though, right?” he quietly asks, “You’re still glad you found each other again?”

Rin smiles again, softly, and his cheeks warm with color. “Yeah. And yeah. I am.”

Haruka nods. “Then it’ll be fine with us, too.” Rin gapes at him and then snorts and shakes his head, mutters something about _competitive asshole_ ; Haruka can’t help but flash a grin since Rin can’t see him, and then his expression sobers to a slight upturn of lips. Though Haruka _had_ found it amusing, Rin had taken it wrong. He’d meant it. He knows that the man he just left isn’t the boy who’d left Iwatobi so long ago, but he also knows that, heart and soul, it’s Makoto. _His_ Makoto. They’d found each other after all this time, and their hearts are finally whole and healed. There will be difficulties, he’s sure of that. But he also knows they’ll come through them together. 


	6. Chapter 6

“That’s right, little one. Good girl.” Makoto lightly strokes the neck of another new life he’s helped bring into the world and then settles back onto his haunches, pulls his gloves off with a quiet sigh. The calf is sweet, as is his mama, but she just hadn’t wanted to eat. It’s not an abnormal thing, but really should be done within the first couple of hours for the babe to get the strongest dose of antibodies from its mother, and they’d been just under that point. Dropping the gloves into a bucket to his right, Makoto settles back against the wall and lets himself just be as he watches them.

He’d been in the middle of lunch when he’d taken the call for this one, and it’s well after dinnertime now; he can feel the hunger prickle at him now that everything’s done, but he can’t bring himself to budge just yet. Not that he minds, he thinks with a soft smile as he watches the two of them. He’d known when he’d chosen this path that he’d love it, and he’d been right. What he does, it’s amazing. 

Makoto’s lips curve up a bit higher as he lets his eyes fall shut. Actually, everything’s been amazing since he and Haru had finally exchanged their letters a few nights back. And he knows it won’t always be like this; Sousuke had warned him when they’d talked that next morning that he and Haru would probably hit some rough spots, and Makoto, for as much of a romantic as he is, is also a realist. He knows that neither they nor the world are the same as when they’d been boys. But he also knows that, heart and soul, it’s Haru. _His_ Haru. And now that they’re with each other, whole and healed, he knows that they’ll come through the harder times together.

“What are you thinking about?” Haru’s voice startles his eyes open and Haru smirks. “Something good, from your smile.”

Makoto grins up at him. “Mm. You.” He reaches for Haru, tugs him down by the arm for a kiss, slow and deep. They’ve done lots of _this_ these past few days, enough for him to have memorized Haru’s taste, to have learned the more sensitive spots in his mouth and that Haru likes having his tongue sucked. Makoto’s lips curve when Haru softly groans as he shifts to his knees and grasps at him, but then Haru takes the kiss, slides his tongue under Makoto’s, and Makoto’s breath catches as his hands move to squeeze Haru’s waist. Of course, that means Haru knows his mouth, too.

Haru smirks against Makoto’s lips and Makoto huffs through his nose in amusement. His eyes slit open and he tightens his hold further; pulls Haru into his lap. Haru’s eyes flare and then darken, and as he shifts to straddle Makoto’s thighs, he takes Makoto’s mouth again, hands running up his arms and then either side of his neck so that he can dig his fingers into Makoto’s hair.

Haruka’s just broken the kiss to nip at Makoto’s lower lip when they hear the far door. They both freeze for a second, and then Haruka deliberately lets his eyes lid; Makoto grins in response, tightens his hold so that he can scoot them down where they won’t be seen over the edge of the stall. Haruka’s smile dimples his cheek, which makes Makoto’s eyes darken, and he kisses him deep again.

“… checked on things at about 1500 and he had everything under control.”

Makoto and Haruka jerk apart like they’ve been jolted when they hear Tamura’s voice; Haruka about falls onto his ass for how quickly they move, but Makoto steadies him, helps him to his feet. They quickly look each other over and then Makoto takes a step away and toward the cow; Haruka quickly grabs him, knocks a few strands of hay out of his hair, then lets him go.

“You chose well, Mikoshiba,” Tamura is saying. “The boy’s smart, wants to learn, isn’t afraid to work, and he loves the critters and land, I can tell. Ah, Tachibana! And Nanase-san!” Tamura’s a bit surprised by that. The owner’s no stranger to the barns by a longshot, but never after dinner; that’s usually spent with his family or in that fancy pool he’d put in a few years back.

“Tamura-sensei. Mikoshiba,” Haru greets smoothly with a nod, and Makoto can’t help but be a bit awed given how they’d had to scramble!

“We finished up not too long ago,” Makoto shares after echoing Haru’s greetings. He pushes himself up from his crouch after lightly stroking the new mother’s nose one last time. “The birth went well, but the calf took her time to eat. She’s doing fine now, though.”

“I see that. Well done, Tachibana. She pass everything yet?” he asks of the mother, and Makoto shakes his head.

“But the birth was straightforward, she’s not in any distress, and she’s a healthy girl. I’m not anticipating an abnormal retention. I’ll keep a close eye on her though.”

“Perfect.” Tamura goes to turn and then he stops, looks at the two younger men again. His brow arches suddenly, and then his teeth flash, and Makoto’s fingers curve into his palms. “Well I’ll be damned. Took seeing the two of you together, but I remember now! Never would have thought, all those years back, when I let those two little brats nag me into letting them watch that old she-cat give birth that one’d be my boss and the other’d be my replacement-in-training.” Makoto inwardly breathes a sigh of relief, but then he sputters, and Tamura laughs, then claps his shoulder. “See you at breakfast,” he says, and he gives the group a wave before heading back.

Mikoshiba snickers and shakes his head, then looks at Makoto and laughs again. “It’s okay, Tachibana. We know you didn’t come here gunning for his job. I told you, day one, that he was talking retirement, remember?” Makoto smiles sheepishly and nods as he rubs the back of his neck, and Mikoshiba looks at Nanase. “Something to consider, though, Nanase-san, if Tamura-sensei’s that enamored of him. You know how particular he is about Iwatobi and her critters.”

“Ah,” Haruka replies with a nod, though inside, he’s _so_ proud for Makoto, if a bit dazed. He thinks about what Rin had said, about reconciling the boys they had been to the men they are now; how capable and competent Makoto has become even while holding onto his sweet, sensitive nature. And he can definitely think of worse things than to have Makoto at Iwatobi permanently. Especially since he hasn’t thought about him having to, eventually, leave again. His heart squeezes warmly with the idea that, now, he may not have to.

“Thank you, Mikoshiba-san,” Makoto says sincerely and with a bit of a bow. He’s humbled by the praise, but elated, too; one more reason why he doesn’t dare look at Haru because, god, the thought of home being here, with him, and not just figuratively, his heart might just burst from it. If it happens, he reminds himself. There’s still practically the whole year left, and he and Haru, they’re still just learning each other again, never mind this more intimate relationship between them. “When the time comes, if Iwatobi wants me, I’d be honored.”

“Good answer!” Mikoshiba says with his charismatic grin and a clap to Makoto’s shoulder. He tips his chin in deference to Haru, then gives them a wave and heads out; the two of them stay frozen in place until they hear the door close, and only then does Makoto take the chance and look at Haru. Their eyes meet, Haru’s lips suddenly press; Makoto blurts a soft snicker, and then they’re both laughing, partly from happiness over Makoto’s approval, but mostly over their stupidity, their near-miss, that they had actually managed to pull normal off and not raise any suspicions.

“I was so afraid when Tamura-san stopped and looked at us how he did that he was on to us,” Makoto says once he’s caught his breath, and then, “ I’m so sorry, Haru-chan. I should have known he’d be in to check on things, but all I thought about was kissing you instead.”

Haru’s brow arches slightly when Makoto apologizes, and then he softly huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry for that. I could have stopped you, but I didn’t. “ He takes a step forward and lightly grasps Makoto’s fingers, studies them, the dichotomy of his strong, gentle hand. “And of course Iwatobi will have you when it’s time. If Makoto wants that,” he adds, briefly glancing up at him through his bangs. Because as much as he doesn’t want to think Makoto won’t, they _aren’t_ the same as they were, and Haru would never force him if he doesn’t. He loves him. He couldn’t. He’d let him go.

“Haru.” Makoto steps forward, tips Haru’s chin up. “Of course I do,” he says softly. “I meant it the other night. All I’ve ever wanted was to be with you.” He smiles a bit , swallows sudden nerves as he runs a thumb beneath Haru’s lower lip, because even as kids, even though they’ve always known, _those words_ haven’t yet been spoken between them. “I’m so happy, Haru-chan. I—” He stops, softly laughs. “It still seems almost like a dream, sometimes, you know? But I’m not that little boy anymore either. I know life is uncertain and can be hard, and I know we’ve got a lot ahead of us yet, you and me; a lot to learn, and a lot of unknowns. The one thing I truly _do_ know is that I love you, and that none of those unknowns are going to change that. Because, if all the ones we faced alone couldn’t break that, then none of the ones we’ll face together will.”

Haruka lets Makoto guide his gaze back up, feels that slight knot inside him untangle and smooth when Makoto tells him that he’d stay, says again that Haru is all he’s ever wanted. His head tilts slightly when he sees a flare of anxiety through Makoto’s eyes, and he lightly squeezes his fingers; he can tell that Makoto is building toward something so he tries to be patient, and then he hears _those_ words, the ones that had just been floating through his mind, and he can hardly breathe. His chest squeezes tighter as everything Makoto says after filters through, and when he can’t make his voice work, he gives a nod and steps forward, arms coming around Makoto’s chest as he rests his head on his shoulder. “I love Makoto, too,” he whispers once he’s grounded; he hears the shakiness in Makoto’s _Haru,_ and then Makoto pulls him tight, kissing the top of his head before resting his own against it.

Eventually, Haruka feels a rumbling through Makoto’s stomach; he huffs a laugh when, as he looks up, Makoto pinks and mumbles a _sorry_. “You apologize for the most foolish of things,” he says with a shake of his head and, feeling _very_ affectionate, he gently rubs his nose over Makoto’s and takes his hands. “Come with me. I’ll feed you, then you can turn in for the night.”

Makoto’s eyes close with the sweet gesture, his heart falling for Haru just a little more, and he hadn’t thought that possible. He nods, then brushes a soft kiss over Haru’s lips. “Let me check Anzu one more time, then I’ll go shower,” he murmurs, opening his eyes as he steps back. He squeezes Haru’s hands when Haru nods, then he releases him. “I’ll be quick,” he says with a grin before turning to grab a clean pair of gloves and then crouching to talk to his patient as he gently strokes her nose.

Haruka stands there and watches him for a second, and he marvels because he hadn’t thought he could love Makoto more, but these sweet little things he does, things that show that he _is_ that boy from his past, makes him fall so much deeper.

“I can feel you staring, Haru-chan.”

Haruka pinks and quickly turns, though he’s as enchanted by the seductive amusement in Makoto’s tone as he’d been by the peek of the boy from before, as intrigued to keep learning the man Makoto’s become as he is _relieved_ that the boy still exists. “Idiot,” he mutters for lack of anything else, but he has to smile as Makoto’s warm laugh follows him through the barn.

As Makoto heads to his cabin a few minutes later, he sets two-hour alarms on his watch for the next several. He doesn’t think he’ll need them through the night; mom and baby are both doing great, and he anticipates that Anzu will have finished what she needs within the next four-to-six. But he’s not going to take any risks, either.

Makoto undresses as soon as he’s inside, makes a beeline for his tiny bathroom. What he’d give for a long soak, he thinks. He’s grateful that he has his own shower, but he has missed a proper bath. He smiles a bit as he starts the water. Then again, he likely wouldn’t make use of one tonight anyway. Haru’s waiting, and Makoto had promised that he’d hurry. He snorts softly when his stomach growls again. Not that his hunger would have let him dawdle anyway, he thinks as he steps under the spray.

As soon as the water hits him, he drops his head forward, rests his hands against the wall, lets his mind shift from work mode to leisure. Given what he does now, his job never fully leaves his mind. He has to be ready for anything at a moment’s notice, especially with a birthing season as busy as this one. But he’s also confident enough in the hands and in himself—especially after tonight—that he feels alright letting it settle to the back of his head to allow for more pleasurable things.

Makoto’s thoughts shift to Haru and warmth curls lowly in his gut as he thinks about their kisses, the looks Haru had given him, how willingly Haru had come to him, had laid with him in the hay, the way those slim fingers had felt in his hair as Haru had teased at his mouth. He wonders how far things would have gone had they not been interrupted. He knows Haru has about the same experience than him, that—like him—he’d tried to date, to see if it would help him move on, but it hadn’t.

A softer warmth wends through him as he recalls _that_ particular conversation, how patient and supportive Haru had been when he’d shared that, at twenty-five, he was still a virgin, how sweet and shy Haru had been when he’d admitted to the same, the kiss they’d shared after, how progressively deep and wanton and wanting the ones that had followed it had been. Makoto knows that neither of them will push for more than what the other is ready, but he also believes, especially after tonight, that neither of them feels the need to wait for propriety’s sake.

Gods know they’ve waited long enough.

That warmth in his gut tries to tighten as his mind briefly wanders down _that_ path, but Makoto clears his throat, pulls himself from it. What happens will, he thinks, but nothing’s going to if he doesn’t get his ass out of the shower and back to Haru. Makoto’s lips quirk slightly. Though, Haru is _very_ cute when he pouts, even after all these years.

Haruka tries, for at least the fifth time, to _not_ blush as he adds a bottle of plum wine to the basket he’s thrown together. This is totally not his thing. Makoto’s always been the more romantic between them, even as boys. But something about the night, Makoto’s words, has stirred it within him. Makoto loves him. He doesn’t want to leave. Despite his family and best friend and the ties he has to Teshio, Makoto wants to stay, to make Iwatobi his livelihood and Haruka his home. And as Haruka had walked back to the big house, under the warm night-breeze and starring sky, it had been all he could think about, those words and the promise of forever; how that last remaining crack in his heart had healed. How he feels he can finally go back to the river, to the one place from their past that he hasn’t been able to face again since that first night, to heal the harm that he’d done there and start new memories together; maybe even pick up where they’d left off in the barn. 

He flushes warmer at the thought, of Makoto’s sweet, lazy kiss earlier, of how it had escalated, how it had felt to have those big hands wrapped around his waist, that hard body beneath him as Makoto had laid them into the hay. He knows they’re just past a week after reconciling and minutes past their actual confession, that Makoto’s right, that they have a lot to discover and relearn. But nothing’s felt righter than being with him, in his arms. Not even the water.

Haruka doesn’t think he would have stopped had Tamura and Mikoshiba not interrupted them. Unless Makoto had wanted him to. Not that he would have. Because he _does_ know, after these past few days, that they still read each other as well as they had as boys. Makoto loves _and_ wants him just as Haruka does Makoto. He feels his face heat again as that warmth coils through his belly. Whatever happens, it will be new to them both. But they’re both intelligent adults and it isn’t exactly rocket science. They’ll figure it out as they go.

“Haruka-chan?” Haruka’s head snaps up with his grandmother’s call, his hand pausing over the basket with the wine glasses. His face warms further under her soft, knowing smile; laughing softly, she comes into the room, reaches up to touch a pinked cheek.

“Haru-ch—ah, I’m sorry!” Makoto cuts himself off with a blurt when he sees Haru with his grandmother, and then his lips curve softly at the sight of them together, her hand on Haru’s cheek. How he loves them both, and his heart about overflows with it. “I should have knocked, but I just didn’t think,” he finishes lamely with a light scratch to his cheek, and Yuma softly chuckles and shakes her head.

“Nonsense. Family doesn’t knock, Makoto-chan. You are welcome through that door at any time.” She looks back at her grandson, drops her hand, lightly caressing as she does so. “Nagisa called the house phone when he couldn’t reach you on your cell,” she tells Haruka. “He’s back from his conference, but I’ll tell him you’re wrapping up some unfinished business and that you’ll speak with him in the morning, hm?” her eyes twinkle slightly and both Makoto and Haruka flush, even as Haruka nods. Because, while he is very fond of Nagisa, business that doesn’t involve Nagisa’s piece of it is the only sure way to keep him from barging in and catching up with _Haru-chan_ after a few days away. Not even sleep is a guarantee.

Besides, his grandmother isn’t wrong.

Haruka lightly catches her hand and thanks her, then snags the basket. Makoto gives it a curious look and Haruka’s cheeks heat again, but he ignores it—as well as the way it Makoto’s expression softens so fondly when he sees Haruka’s discomfort.

“Goodnight, Baa-baa,” Makoto calls into her from the doorway and he gives her a soft grin when she returns it, then he turns his attention to Haru as he steps out beside him. “What’s all this then?” he softly asks as the door closes behind them, and then, “And was it really alright for grandmother to put Hazuki-san off like that? I don’t want to get in between you and your… well, friends or business either one,” he explains when Haru looks at him incredulously. He knows that Nagisa is both.

Haruka softly snorts. “If she wouldn’t have, he’d have driven in. He’s quite put out that Rin knows you and he hasn’t even met you yet,” he shares with a bit of a smirk, and Makoto softly laughs. “It’s fine,” Haruka assures, and he catches Makoto’s hand with his free one, tugs him toward the back of the kept property and the river. He can tell from Makoto’s soft intake of breath that he’s onto him just from _that_ , but he doesn’t say anything and neither does Makoto; he just shifts his hand to properly take Haruka’s and lets him lead.

The night grows stiller as they enter their secluded little curve, and it echoes with memories at first, secret bases and pilfered snacks, mermaids and pirates, giggles and laughs as they’d stripped off with the shamelessness of children and had splashed and swam and played.

“Makoto.”

Makoto blinks his eyes at the older, more mature call of his name, glances at Haru, sees—in Haru’s expression—that he’s thinking back, too, but to much more recent times. He’s recalling harsh words and cold shoulders and cut off pleas for him to stay, and Makoto’s heart aches. He reaches out, takes the basket from Haru, sets it onto the ground, then takes his hands, draws him close, tips his chin up. “I forgive you, Haru-chan,” he says softly, knowing that, despite what _he_ thinks, it’s what Haru needs to hear, and he lightly brushes his thumb beneath Haru’s lower lip. “So forgive yourself and let it go. Please?”

Warmth rushes through Haruka to chase the chill of his thoughts away as Makoto takes his hands and pulls him close, and the last of it leaves on a slightly tremulous breath when Makoto gives his forgiveness. His eyes close at the gentle caress. “Ah,” he says softly as he opens his eyes, and Makoto must like what he sees there for how he smiles, eyes crinkling so handsomely at the corners; for the tenderness of the kiss he brushes over his lips. The moon breaks from a high, skittering cloud then, and Makoto’s lips curve higher as his eyes lid softly.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, because it’s all he can manage for how exquisite Haru looks bathed in the gentle light, the river wending lazily behind him.

The praise burns through Haruka as it always has, and he pouts, turns his face away, lightly pushes at Makoto’s ridiculous chest with his slender hand. “Idiot. You’re as foolish when you’re hungry as you’ve always been.” Makoto laughs, the rumble of it rolling through him through his fingers and Haruka moistens his lips then gapes softly in surprise when Makoto lopes an arm around his waist to pull him flush.

“Best feed your idiot, then,” he says before taking his mouth in a short, hard kiss, and Haruka can’t help how his lips curve up against it.

“Ah.”


	7. Chapter 7

The meal really isn’t. Not a proper one anyway. It’s more just a conglomeration of things that Haruka had found in the refrigerator and cupboards that could be quickly packed and easily eaten. Seaweed salad, pickled plums, rice crackers, watermelon chunks, some onigiri and cold mackerel, all placed in with napkins and glasses and chopsticks. Enough to satisfy Makoto’s stomach without filling him up right before bed.

Makoto tells him it’s perfect as they eat, says it once again as they finish and Haruka pours them another glass of wine. Haruka blushes with the praise, calls Makoto foolish, turns his head to put what’s left of the bottle to the side. Makoto softly laughs, takes a swallow from his glass, sets it down, then lays back with a low, contented noise in a lazy stretch as his eyes fall shut. A bit of the night’s breeze wends its way in, soft, warm, and sultry, and Makoto laughs again.

Haruka’s heart skips. It sounds like the breeze feels against his skin. “What?” he asks after lightly moistening his lips.

“Just thinking about all the times we tried to sneak out and sleep here for the night,” Makoto says. “I think it was at least twice a year after we turned five.”

Haruka smiles softly. “Sounds about right,” he says, though he can’t imagine doing so now. It’s far too chilly that early in the year, especially at night. But that hadn’t stopped them as kids. His smile widens as another thought chases that one. “Though we got in trouble more for being in the water when we shouldn’t have been.”

Makoto laughs a bit. ”We did.” His smile broadens softly. “All through the years, those were the memories that stayed with me,” he shares.

“When we got in trouble?” Haruka deadpans, unable to help himself, despite how his heart skips again with the quiet confession. 

Makoto laughs. “No! The memories of you and me, here, in this place. I mean, I thought of Iwatobi a lot, and grandmother; your parents, too, every once in a while. But you and this place… those ones haunted me the most often.”

“Makoto.” Haruka gazes at him, drinks in how he looks in the grass, soft and lazy and content. His eyes roam back up him more slowly, his long legs and strong thighs, his broad chest and shoulders, the sharp cut of a man’s face, his kissable lips. “Makoto,” he says again and, this time, Makoto cracks an eye open with a soft _hmm?_ “Let’s make some new memories of this place,” he breathes, and he gets up. He pinks slightly when Makoto pushes himself up onto his elbows, suddenly wide awake and _very_ attentive and, letting his lashes fall, Haruka tugs off his shirt, slips out of his jeans and boxers, then turns his back to walk to the water’s edge.

Makoto’s mouth falls open slightly as he watches, and then he closes it with a rough swallow. Heat swirls from his face and neck through his heart to his abdomen and then slowly curls toward his groin as he watches Haru bare himself beneath the moon, the way light and shadow play over pale, perfect skin, the flex and release of his pert ass and taut thighs as he moves down the gentle slope. He’s _so_ elegant, so _beautiful,_ the perfect balance of delicateness and masculinity; he’s everything Makoto’s ever wanted, and he feels like he’s caught in a dream as he swallows again and gets to his feet in a daze.

“I can feel you staring, Makoto.”

Makoto’s jaw drops when Haru gives his earlier words back to him, and then he laughs as he tugs his tee-shirt off over his head. For as quiet and refined as he is, his Haru-chan can still be a brat, too. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Haruka turns his head when he hears that laugh, in time to see Makoto’s hand push back through his hair as his shirt drops, to watch him shuck off his jeans and boxer briefs. His breaths speed slightly and his body warms as he watches Makoto approach, all hard muscle under smooth, tanned skin. He belongs in the sun, he thinks, but the moonlight still favors him, and he swallows softly, turns his head forward again to drop his gaze down and watch Makoto’s hands slide around his waist when Makoto comes up behind him. “Okay?” Makoto dips his head to breathe against his ear, and he nods, drops his head back, relaxes into the warmth of Makoto’s naked body as Makoto kisses the end of his jaw, then his neck before bringing a hand up to turn his head enough to find his lips. They kiss slowly at first, and then Makoto slides his tongue deeper, draws it around Haruka’s to softly suck; Haruka moans lowly at the sensation, then breaks the kiss long enough to turn in Makoto’s arms.

Makoto’s cock starts to fill as he drinks in Haru’s taste, at the low, sultry moan he gives. He watches through heavy eyes as Haru breaks the kiss to face him and then his lashes fall completely when Haru gently caresses his cheeks on either side as he runs his fingers back to his hair and brings their mouths together again. A stroke along his gumline and he willingly cedes to Haru’s mouth with a husky groan; his hold briefly tightens before his hands start to move, one dropping to roam over the curve of Haru’s ass as the other slides up his spine to his shoulder.

Haruka’s hips jolt forward when he feels that large hand palm and squeeze at his ass. His cock swells harder when he feels Makoto’s against him, thick, firm and hot. He breaks from the kiss to catch his breath, it mingling with Makoto’s, mouths centimeters apart as he rolls his gaze downward, and then his eyes fall shut with a throaty groan when Makoto’s other hand burrows into his hair as he tips his head to the side to lick and nip at his neck. “Makoto,” he breathes, his own fingers tightening through the soft brown locks to hold him there. “Ah, _Makoto.”_

Makoto hisses softly at the tug, pushes his hips against Haru’s, scrapes his teeth over the spot just above Haru’s collarbone that had earned him that whine. Haru gives it again, wordlessly this time, and Makoto laves the pinking skin with his tongue, pulls back, eyes gleaming at the sight of his mark, before he takes Haru’s mouth again. “Hold on tight, Haru-chan,” he murmurs and he shifts his hand from Haru’s head to his back, the other arm slipping under his ass to pick him up a bit. “Gonna lay you down. Wanna touch you. Take care of you.”

Haruka’s cheeks flood with color at the pet name; Makoto’s always spoken it like a cherished thing, even when they’d been boys, and right now, like this, Makoto picking him up like he’s nothing, promising in that dark, rich voice that he’s going to take care of him, Haruka _feels_ cherished, safe and protected. Not small, or _less_ , but as if he’s Makoto’s world, his _everything_.

Breathless, he nods, twines his arms around Makoto’s shoulders and brings his legs up around his waist. Their groins come together more fully, Haruka gasps and Makoto curses and gods, the sound of it just makes Haruka harder. Makoto breathes an apology against his ear and Haruka can’t help but laugh. “You apologize for the most ridiculous of things,” he tells him again, and then he tips his head, lightly catches Makoto’s lobe between his teeth. “I thought it was hot.”

“Haru!” Makoto blurts an incredulous laugh and then goes to his knees; hand slipping up, he cups the back of Haru’s head as he gently lays him down, lips still curved in the grin that Haru’s confession had caused. “I love you,” he says and he brushes a kiss to Haru’s lips, and then he settles back between Haru’s legs as they come to rest on the grass. “God, look at you.” He runs his hands up Haru’s thighs, traces his hiplines, strokes along the musculature of his abdomen up to his chest, runs his thumbs over Haru’s tiny nipples, then strokes his hands back down again, one of them resting at Haru’s hip while the other curves around his cock.

Lips parted for his breaths, Haruka watches through lidded eyes as Makoto explores his body. He’s learned already that Makoto gets off on his reactions, so he doesn’t stifle either sound or movement when Makoto finds a sensitive spot. He arches and shifts, gives soft moans and calls of his name; gives Makoto his all, lets him know that he’s taking care of him properly. His fingers clench and relax in the grass, from the pleasure, from the want to touch back; it tickles his inner thighs, his ass, his sac, hundreds of scintillating caresses beneath Makoto’s more prominent ones, and he’s slick with pre-come when Makoto finally takes him in his hand.

“So wet, Haru-chan.” It’s nearly a growl and Haruka can’t help but keen Makoto’s name and arch into his fist.

“Ah, fuck.” Makoto swallows for how raspy his voice sounds. He can’t catch his breath, Haru’s taken it away by how perfectly sinful he is, laid out in the grass beneath the moon and stars, surrendering everything to him. His throat closes slightly for how much he loves him and, feeling far too far away, he surges up the length of Haru’s body to take his mouth again, then lays a line of kisses over to his ear to confess, “I think I could come just from touching you, Haru-chan.”

Haruka doesn’t know if it’s embarrassment or pride that burns its way through his body; probably both, he muses as he lightly slaps Makoto’s shoulder. “You’re so embarrassing,” he declares breathlessly, which makes Makoto laugh; it makes Haruka want to kiss the smile from those lips, so he does, until Makoto is, again, as breathless as he is and rolling his hips down in a slow, lazy grind against his own. And it isn’t fair, because he’s _so close,_ and he hasn’t had his chance to touch Makoto yet.

Makoto laughs, completely and utterly enamored by the petulant mutter that he can tell right away from the flare in Haru’s cheeks hadn’t been meant to have been said aloud. Haru turns his head away and Makoto gently brings it back, brushes a smiling kiss over his lips. “Let’s try this then,” he murmurs, and he pulls away, settles onto his ass, reaches for Haru, helps him settle onto his thighs. “Touch away,” he murmurs cheekily, then he yelps and laughs again when he gets a pinch to his side for his troubles.

He’s too much, he really is, Makoto. Haruka can hardly stand it, how he can be so grown and sensual and hot, yet so much of a boy still. He loves it; it warms him in ways that even Makoto’s kisses and touches can’t, and his throat closes slightly for how perfect it is. How happy he is. How much he loves him. He can’t find the words, but Makoto must see it in his eyes because his entire expression changes to one of such softness and adoration that it makes Haruka’s throat close more. “It’s okay, Haru-chan. I know,” Makoto whispers and then he takes his mouth in a slow, deep kiss as he twines their fingers together. “I love you, too,” he murmurs against Haruka’s lips before kissing him again and leading Haruka’s hand between them.

Not even the sweet taste of Haru’s mouth can distract Makoto from the sensation of those slim fingers taking his cock for the first time. He shivers with it, lowly groans into Haru’s mouth. Haru’s free hand lightly digs into his hair, then skates down his neck to his chest, and Makoto’s gasp breaks the kiss when Haru strokes and then pinches at a nipple. “Haru.”

Haruka swallows, repeats the caress as he jerks him; the knot of pleasure in his stomach grows tighter when Makoto repeats his name in a keen. “Shh. I know. Me too.” Makoto’s hand slips between them, taking them both; Haruka whines at the pressure, starts fucking into Makoto’s fist, cock sliding against the slick hard heat of Makoto’s. Makoto’s hand is on his ass again, kneading, pulling him close as he arches; Haruka shudders as his fingers tease along his crack; he imagines one of them, long and thick, teasing his hole, sliding into him, the pressure, the _connection,_ and he pushes into Makoto’s fist one more time as he stutters his name and comes.

Makoto’s approval rumbles low in his throat as he strokes Haru through his orgasm. Haru leans into him, breathing heavily, and Makoto lets him go to pull at himself in short, fast strokes, Haru’s name leaving his lips with every exhale. He feels Haru shift and slits open his eyes; Haru kisses him breathlessly, tongue teasing under his own as he tweaks his nipple again and Makoto’s done, mouth tearing from Haru’s in a hoarse cry as he streaks Haru’s chest and stomach with his come.

Haruka shivers at the sensation, dips his head forward, lazily kisses along Makoto’s jaw. “So good, Makoto,” he whispers as he finds Makoto’s ear. “You made me feel so good, took such good care of me.” He feels Makoto shudder as the last of his orgasm is coaxed out of him, and then Makoto’s gathering him close, hot, panting breaths washing over his neck and ear as he lays them back down, the grass soothingly cool beneath them after the heat of their lovemaking.

At some point, Makoto stirs, props his head up with his hand then dips forward to give Haru a slow, lazy kiss. He pulls back, chuckles softly as he runs a finger through the cooling come. “I made a mess of you, Haru-chan,” he murmurs as he follows the trail down Haru’s abdomen, and he laughs again when Haru blushes and bats his hand away. “What? You did me, too.” 

“Idiot,” Haruka mutters, but he’s smiling. He can’t do anything but. Makoto’s smile is so happy, his eyes so full of love and light that they rival the stars. “Let’s swim and clean up then,” he says, and he gets to his feet, offers Makoto his hand.

Makoto takes it, lets Haru lead him to the water’s edge and then in. It’s cold, exhilarating, and he tips his head to the sky and laughs from the sheer joy of… well, everything. The river, the stars, the night, but mostly being whole and with Haru. Of knowing that, this time, it’s forever.

Haruka watches him, lips parted, eyes wide with awe. He’s beautiful, Makoto, and Haruka is barely aware of the water for how warm it makes him feel, for how he falls in love with Makoto all over again. And though Tanbata is a while away, he thinks of the lovers, of their fate, of the promise he and Makoto had made to each other back when they’d been boys. They’d been apart longer than the stars have ever been, but, he thinks, despite all the heartache, it was a fair exchange. Because, unlike the stars, they won’t have to part again.


	8. Epilogue

Makoto sighs long and low as the water beats down across his neck and back. He’s largely settled into Iwatobi’s schedule and routine, but the last few days had been busy ones, albeit more for personal reasons than professional.

He and Haru had played in the river for far longer than they probably should have. Makoto softly laughs as he lathers his hair. How neither of them had ended up with colds he has no clue. Maybe because of how they’d warmed each other back up in his bunk after he’d made his check on Anzu, he thinks, cheeks heating, though it’s as much from the memory of having woken with Haru in his arms as from their less innocent activities. 

The following day, he’d finally met Nagisa. Haru hadn’t been exaggerating, either about the guy’s personality or his eagerness to meet Makoto. He hadn’t been content to wait and meet him at the pool after the workday was done, but had driven in for what had turned out to be a very lively lunch, between Nagisa and _Rin-chan._ Makoto snickers under his breath. Though he supposes he can’t really tease Rin since he’s now _Mako-chan_ to the bubbly blond. His lips curve up softly as he rinses his hair. Not that he minds. Nagisa is warm and kind and Makoto has a lot to be grateful of him for. He’s glad that Nagisa was there for Haru when he hadn’t been.

The day after, a cattle buyer from Kobe had been in. Makoto had shadowed Tamura and Mikoshiba through the rounds, making note of what they’d discussed, the particular points this buyer had focused on. The four of them had taken lunch with Haru, who negotiated and settled the sale with a smooth finesse that had left Makoto both awed and proud. That night, he’d praised Haru for it until he’d blushed and had kissed him to shut him up… a shiver runs through Makoto’s spine as he soaps up. They’d ended up in Haru’s bed that night, and Haru had shown him he could do more than strike a deal with his lips and tongue.

Haru’s parents had returned the next day, and, despite Makoto’s trepidation—which was foolish, Haru had told him point blank—everything had gone well. He’d been greeted with a hug and handshake and dinner had been a pleasant meal filled with reminiscences and good conversation. His heart still warms when he thinks of their approval and pride for what he’s done with his life, how they’d welcomed him as part of their family when Haru had shared their relationship with them.

The time in between work and the bigger things had largely been spent with Haru and Rin, though Makoto had made a point of making sure the two of them had their time alone together, too. He knows Rin only has another week and that it’ll likely be a year before they’re together like this again; he knows full well how hard that is, that he’ll have plenty of time to have Haru to himself, after.

Once he’s dried off, Makoto lopes a towel around his waist and steps out of the tiny bathroom. As soon as he does, he realizes he’s not alone, and he freezes, gaping wide-eyed at Sousuke, who’s sitting on his bed with a smirk. “I… how…” Sousuke snorts and throws the shirt Makoto had laid out earlier at him.

“I’ll tell you lat—whoa!” Sousuke laughs heartily and turns his head when, in catching his shirt, Makoto loses his towel.

“Shut up, Sousuke, you ass!” Makoto tries for pissed but ends up laughing instead, quickly catches his underwear when Sousuke tosses that to him next. “Seriously! You could have let me know you were coming!” he says as he dresses, and then, “Does Rin know?” Sousuke gives him a look and Makoto snorts and shakes his head. “Of course he doesn’t. Then I would.”

“Ah. Which is why I didn’t tell you, either. You both are shit at keeping secrets. Not the details,” Sousuke amends with an eyeroll when Makoto sputters at him. “But anyone can tell when you’re keeping one. You both wear your hearts in your eyes and on your sleeves.

“You must like the type, then,” Makoto jibes back as he takes the few steps over to grab his jeans, and Sousuke rolls his eyes again.

“Yeah, Nanase and I have already commiserated on that. _Someone_ had to know I was coming,” he says when Makoto gapes at him in surprise. He rolls his eyes a third time when Makoto’s expression softens into one of utter affection. “Come on,” he grumbles, “Or you’re going to miss it.” He gets up without a word and opens the door, smirking when it causes Makoto to screech his name because he’s still half-naked.

“Forget what I was going to say earlier,” Makoto huffs when he steps out a few seconds later. “You’re the w—ohhh!” His hand comes up to cover his mouth as his eyes lock on his mother, who has both hands over _her_ mouth as she watches Haru bring out Auntie Yua. He’s not close enough to hear them, but he does see Yua touch her fingers to her mouth in surprise and then extend her hands. As his mother steps forward to take them, as the two women hug, Makoto laughs thickly, wipes the tears from his eyes. “Never mind, Sousuke. You’re the best after—”

“Sousuke!”

The shout comes from the far corner of the house and everyone turns to it; Makoto snickers under his breath as he watches his friend turn an interesting shade of red from his collar to his cheeks as Rin, fresh from the pool and dripping wet, beelines in their direction. He slows down with a yelp when he hits the gravel drive with his bare feet, and Makoto quickly slaps a hand over his mouth again, this time to stifle a laugh, though he can’t help but feel badly for Rin when _everyone_ does, even Haru.

“Tch. Idiot.”

“Mm. And he’s all yours.”

“Shut up, Makoto.”

Makoto laughs. “Yeah. I missed you, too.” He nudges Sousuke toward Rin, then turns his eyes back to his mom, who’s now walking arm and arm with Yue toward the veranda, where grandmother is waiting. Tears rise to his eyes again when she greets them both with open arms, and then he shifts his gaze to Haru, who’s looking at him and softly smiling.

_Come on then,_ those pretty eyes beckon him, and Makoto heeds the call and crosses over, slips his hand into Haru’s, lets Haru lead him to their family. _Hearts like ours know,_ Haru’s grandmother had said, and Makoto’s smile widens softly. Haru’s grandparents. His mother and Yua. Sousuke and Rin. Haru and him. Bonds that span the rifts of time and distance, misunderstanding and pain, even that of death. He brings Haru’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to it, chuckles softly when it makes him blush. He’s grateful that fate has brought such a love to him.


End file.
